The Second Task
by John Faina
Summary: Harry and Ron discuss what went on down in the lake while a party of celebration roars on down in the common room. The discussion leads to unexpected revelations...but not entirely unwelcome.
1. Chapter 1

Harry made his way up to the fourth-year boys' dormitory, having finally managed to escape the raging party in the common room. The shrieking golden egg cradled in his right arm was still ringing in his ears - many of his fellow classmates had wanted to hear it again to see how he could have possibly known what to do - and if he wasn't quite mistaken, the thickness in his head was due to all the water he'd taken on that day. Maybe Hermione knew a spell that could release the water through his ears, like he'd once seen a character do in a movie they had shown in his Muggle school at the age of about six. He yawned; he would ask her about it in the morning. For now, he just wanted to collapse onto his four-poster and fall into a deep, deep enchanted sleep seriously lacking in grindylows and unfriendly merpeople.

Even underneath his sleepy exterior, the noises from the celebration that would most likely continue until the wee hours of the morning sent a thrill throughout his body. A low, humming thrill of accomplishment and, yes, a sense of pride as well. He had second place in the tournament! And the best part was that the third task was months away, he had ages to get worked up over what it could possibly be, and he had most of the school on his side, cheering him on now. Of course, a lot of people supported Cedric along with him, some even more so than him, but he really didn't mind; it had been a long time since Hufflepuff had seen any glory. He figured he rather liked Cedric at any rate. He really was alright. He'd offered him genuinely helpful advice as to how to work out what the blasted shrieking egg meant after all. Even if he _did_ beat him to asking Cho to the Yule Ball...

As he entered the dormitory, he spotted Ron, whom he hadn't noticed had been missing downstairs, lying spread-eagled on the floor, still in his robes, his feet propped up on his own four-poster. His head tilted back to look at Harry standing in the doorway, so that his fiery red fringe fell from his forehead. Raising his eyebrows, Harry stepped over him to toss the heavy egg into his trunk.

"I didn't know you - " Ron began, but stopped, grinning like an idiot.

"What?" Harry asked, picking up his pajamas from where a house elf had apparently set them, folded, atop of his mattress. He pulled his robes over his head and went about getting into them, yawning once more. When Ron said nothing, continuing to grin, Harry couldn't help but follow his example. Buttoning the shirt over his chest, a familiar burst of excitement shot through him, as had occured several times in the past few hours. Had the day actually been real?

Suddenly, he wasn't ready for bed. Instead, he lowered himself to the floor and lay flat on his back so that when he looked to his left, he saw Ron. Vaguely, he wondered when Dean, Seamus, and Neville were going to return.

"How come you never told me - ?" Ron began again, and stopped. Harry chuckled.

"I can't very well answer your questions if you don't ask them properly."

Ron was silent and placed his hands over his middle.

"What are you doing up here anyway? Tired?"

Ron sighed. "Yeah. You?"

"Absolutely exhausted," he said, not sounding it. "How can you be, though? You spent the day unconcious at the bottom of a lake."

"I put up a bloody good fight with McGonagall in her office if you must know."

Harry laughed, staring up at the canopied ceiling. "Avoiding Hermione again?" he guessed. "If you'll just _talk_ to her about - about whatever - Krum or - I dunno - "

"I'm not avoiding her," Ron interrupted. "We've been on perfectly right terms, Hermione and me. You've seen for yourself - we act like we've never quite met before nowadays. She caught me on my way up and shoved one of those wooly bladders under my nose, asking if it looked alright, and I told her it _did_. Tell me that's not messed up. But, blimey, she's happy with it..."

Harry nodded, putting his hands behind his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose."

They were quiet for a moment, each thinking their own private thoughts. Then, Ron broke it by saying, "Anyway, contratulations, mate. Even though you were a complete prat - it was wicked cool what you did down in the lake. Definitely the best idea to use gillyweed out of those other idiots. How did you figure it out?"

Harry remembered that he needed to start buying Dobby a pair of socks for every day of the week. "I didn't," he responded honestly. "I was up the entire night looking for spells after you guys left and fell asleep. The next thing - Dobby was poking me awake saying that the task was ten minutes away and that I had to - " he paused, recalling Dobby's embarrassing, but really rather humorous words, and decided to continue. " - find my Wheezy. Take him back from the merpeople."

Ron, unexpectedly, didn't chuckle, but when he next spoke, Harry could hear the smile in his voice. "How did _he_ know about the gillyweed?"

"He overheard McGonagall and Moody talking about the task and they must've mentioned it. He stole it from Snape's private cupboards."

Ron let out a low, impressed whistle and they were quiet again. It was then that Harry noticed that he could not hear the sounds from the celebration. Perhaps the wooden door to the dormitory had a special spell cast upon it that blocked out any unwanted noise whilst they were supposed to be trying to sleep.

"Harry?"

"What?"

"I didn't know that _I_ would be the thing you miss most," Ron said, sounding almost hesitant.

Slightly uncomfortable, Harry replied, "Well...what else would it be?"

"I don't know - your Firebolt, or - your wand. No, your Invisibility Cloak. It was your dad's."

"You can't be friends with any of those things."

"You'd miss my friendship most?"

"Are you joking?" Harry asked, feigning astonishment. "I thought you knew about my extreme fixation with your hair."

Ron snorted. "Shut up. But then...why wasn't it Hermione? She's your friend."

Harry rolled his green eyes, somewhat annoyed at having to explain this. Didn't Ron know that he was Harry's _best_ mate? "She's not you," he said simply. Then he added, "And I'm going to bed." Heaving himself off of the floor, he proceeded to do just that, without pulling closed the curtains.

"Harry."

"Ron."

"Er...she's not you either, you know."

Squinting down at the ground, for he had removed his glasses, where Ron still sprawled, he stuffed a hand underneath his pillow in an attempt to disguise the slight shock he had just received. "Well - I don't reckon she would be Hermione if she were," he joked lightly. "Night."

Ron did chuckle a bit. "Harry," he said again.

"Bloody hell, Ron."

"It's just - you don't even wonder - if, say our roles were reversed, and I was the prat down in the lake trying to save the thing I'd miss most - you don't even wonder what mine would be?"

"I'm fairly certain I'm about to find out."

Ron's voice took on a thoughtful tone. "I reckon it would be Mum. Or Ginny. But if I were like you, with no family, it would have to be you, wouldn't it?"

"Erm..." said Harry, wondering if he was supposed to agree.

"Yeah, it would," Ron said firmly before he could finish. "And that's how it is for you. I never realized how much I meant to you until now..." He finally sat up, looking at Harry. Or - in his general direction. It was hard to tell when everything was hopelessly blurry. Harry squinted harder.

"You're a sappy git."

"You love me, don't you?"

Harry gaped at him. "_What_?"

"Come on," Ron said in a surprisingly gentle voice. "I know you do."

Beating back his pillow, Harry cursed under his breath, feeling distinctly awkward. Of course he loved Ron. Why were they having this conversation? "You've forgotten something," he growled without fully meaning to do so.

"What's that?"

"I have Sirius."

"Ah, but it wasn't him you dragged back to land, was it? Why is that?"

"Probably because if I had," Harry snapped, "he'd be locked up like a wild bloody animal, wouldn't he?"

Ron's blurry figure stood then and began to move. Harry wasn't sure of the direction, but quickly found out when he felt the end of his bed dip down. "You mind if I sit?"

Harry wanted to say _yes_, he minded very much, and kick his sorry arse back into the floor, but he held his tongue, opting to say nothing at all. Ron seemed to take that as a positive response. "I suppose you're right. But you didn't know anything at all about what they were going to take from you - "

"Ron, it's obvious that Dumbledore knew I'd miss Sirius, but he couldn't very well get a hold of him when he's supposed to be hiding out for his life and make him surrender himself to a load of Ministry wizards just because I got caught up in all this mess. When _that_ wasn't going to work, he moved on the _next_ thing I'd most miss."

"But, Harry, you've barely seen Sirius."

"Why does this matter to you?" Harry asked, suddenly very curious.

"Because," Ron said, shifting a bit. "I...like...being the most important person to someone."

If Harry had been wearing glasses, he would be prepared to bet that Ron's ears had just turned bright red. He, himself, felt a bit warm around the collar. He sat up, blinking rapidly.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Ron muttered, reaching across him. He shoved Harry's glasses onto his face with one hand. "There, you tosspot."

He blinked a few more times, and Ron came into focus. Sure enough, his ears were flaming, and he wore an odd look of embarrassment and affection. Like he dearly wanted to hug Harry, but wasn't quite sure how to go about it. Harry looked at him, feeling slightly guilty for being irritable. He often forgot how insecure Ron could be at times, because he, himself, was famous and no one seemed to pay as much attention to him as they did Harry. He even had suspicions that Ron frequently thought his own family liked Harry better. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to offer a little comfort on that point.

"You're right, okay?" he said, rather hoarsely. "There is no one I would rather have rescued. Alright?"

Ron nodded, avoiding his gaze. "Okay."

Harry sighed deeply. "Ron...I do love you. Very much."

Ron looked up then. "But you're amazing, you are."

Harry was a litte taken aback. "Er...why?"

"All that stuff that happens to you," Ron gestured, his blue eyes lighting up, "and you never let it get to you. You should be a raving lunatic by now - Hermione would say by textbook no doubt - but you're - you're not. In fact, you're completely normal as far as I can tell, aside from - "

"The fact that I get chosen to play in tournaments I never entered?" Harry suggested shrewdly. "Or have a really pretty scar on my forehead from the most powerful wizard of all time?"

"Yeah," said Ron, letting air whoosh out of him. "You ought to be off your rocker. Glad you're not, though."

"So am I, funnily enough. Listen, do you want to hug me or not?" he asked, having quickly made this decision.

Ron's eyes widened before he grinned, his ears turning red again, and scooted closer to Harry's knees so that they could easily reach each other. They leaned forward simultaneously and embraced, somewhat loosely. The silence surrounded and pressed in upon them with the shift in atmosphere, filling Harry with the urge to give Ron a friendly pat on the back and pull away. Ron, however, didn't seem to find this new atmosphere intimidating, and held on, clearly keen on remaining in his odd mood until he had successfully reduced Harry to a writhing pile of mortification.

Except...it wasn't quite that horrible. In fact, Ron was warm. Solid. Honestly, Harry thought, Ron was not demonstrating _odd_ behavior, he was just overcome with a particularly strong appreciation for Harry, his best mate. It wasn't so unusual. At times, _he _would lie there and think about how wonderful it was to have such friends as Ron and Hermione when he'd previously had none. And he figured that if Ron wanted to hug him like this (even if it was to be kept between them), then he would enjoy it as much as he could because it wouldn't happen again.

Tightening his grip, Harry buried his head in Ron's neck - and burst into entirely silent tears. They weren't silent for long; shocked with both the force of them and their existance, Harry gasped, blinking furiously.

Ron froze. Yanking himself away, Harry spluttered hastily, "Sorry. Sorry - I - " He broke off, swiping at his eyes underneath his glasses in frustration. But they kept coming as though a dam had broken. He sniffed helplessly, his head down to avoid Ron's comically raised eyebrows.

"Blimey, Harry. Didn't think contact with me could cause that type of reaction. Then again - "

"Shut up," he choked out. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel the overwhelming urge to sob hysterically? He'd been feeling happy, hadn't he? It had been a spectacularly great day; there was no plausible explanation for this...

"Do you...want to talk about something?" Ron asked helpfully, though admittedly looking quite alarmed.

Harry jerked his head, sniffing. Tears poured down his face, landing on his bed sheets and Ron's robe-clad knee. He wanted to speak again, but couldn't find his voice in the intense waterfall.

"Harry," Ron said softly. "I've never seen you like this, mate. What's happened?"

"Mm..." he managed incoherently. He winced at the desperate and pitiful quality of his voice.

As if some unspoken agreement had been passed between them, Ron nodded and moved forward to embrace him again. Harry let him. He was in no position _not_ to let him. He sagged against him, glad for the comfort and grateful that Ron didn't seem to be repulsed or entirely uncomfortable.

Harry wasn't used to receiving too many hugs. Was that why he was crying? It would be a pretty pansy reason if it were. Did it have something to do with Ron? Maybe...the tournament? The stress had finally got to him perhaps.

By the time Ron slipped a hand into his hair, he was hiccuping, unable to draw enough breath to be comfortable. In an attempt to scrounge up the remains of his dignity, Harry straightened himself a bit so that he was no longer slumped against Ron like he was a tree stump. Ron trailed his fingers slowly through his dark hair, brushing the slightly damp strands away from his face, and shushed him very quietly as if he didn't really want Harry to hear.

"It's about time you lost it," he assured him, speaking in a low voice. "Hermione and I worry about you."

"You're not going to tell her?" Harry sniffed. "I'll never get another peaceful moment."

"C'mon," Ron scoffed. "Would I?"

Eventually, Harry regained control over himself. His slight trembling ceased, the tears slowed, the hiccups were few, and he began to accquire a deep headache. Sniffing once more, he sat back, wiping his pajama sleeve across his face. When he got the courage to peer up at Ron, what he saw subdued him even further. Ron was watching him with an uncharcteristically concerned expression filled also with so many different emotions that Harry could not quite name them. He blinked, but he did not shy away from it as he normally would have done. He was suddenly glad for this attention that Ron was showing him.

They stared at each other for a while, Harry with glistening eyes and Ron just watching...and there was something in Harry's gut that matched what he could see in Ron's expression. Smiling a little, Ron reached out and removed some of the dampness on Harry's face with his thumb.

"I don't appreciate you blubbering all over me just now," he joked.

Harry flushed involuntarily. "Well...I appreciate you letting me anyway. Git."

Ron wiped some more of the wetness, then gently lifted the hair from his forehead with his palm, leaned forward, and barely brushed his lips past the scar there. Instinctively, Harry closed his eyes, his stomach swooping as though he'd just missed a step going downstairs. Sweeping his palm over the top of Harry's head, Ron pressed another small kiss to that same spot.

"Ron," he breathed shakily.

"Right," Ron replied, hastily pulling back. Harry already missed the contact. He'd never experienced anything like it before. No one had ever hugged him like that, kissed him like that..._looked_ at him like that. Not exactly like that. Ron truly cared about him. _Ron_ was the reason his stomach was currently contracting. What was happening to him?

He must have been gazing intently at the boy opposite him because Ron tilted his head curiously and asked, "What?"

"I think you know damn well what."

"Harry, I'm sorry - I didn't mean - "

Harry deflated at once. "No, Ron, don't - don't do that. What I mean to say is - what the hell is going on exactly? Why are you - ?" he gestured in the hope that it would communicate his inner thoughts.

"I don't think I'm up to getting the mickey taken out on me, thank you," Ron replied, swallowing.

"Please," Harry insisted. "Unless you think I need another mystery to solve in my life - "

If he wasn't mistaken, Ron's expression softened considerably at these words. "Oh, bloody hell, Harry. Widen those big, green eyes at someone else, will you?"

Startled, Harry glanced away, having been unaware that his eyes had been slowly widening until he resembled a tree frog. Ron snorted. Slowly, Harry dragged his eyes back to him. Carefully, he asked, "H-how angry do you reckon Hermione'd be if she saw you doing that?"

Ron's own blue eyes widened. "I - I dunno - " he stuttered. "Honestly, I don't think she'd mind..."

Harry nodded, his throat closing. "Alright...what are we doing, then?"

Ron distractedly ran a hand through his bright red hair. "Well, I'd - I'd like to tell you something."

"Go ahead."

"Erm...well, I don't know how exactly...I mean..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "I mean - "

"Go ahead," Harry repeated, surprised by the fact that his stomach was doing cartwheels. His voice shook a bit.

The door to the dormitory opened with a _bang_. Seamus and Neville entered, giggling madly at something that must've happened downstairs, for Harry could hear similar laughter floating up toward them. There were a few cheers and then all was shut out as the door swung closed again.

"Harry! Ron!" Seamus cried. "What are you guys doing up here? You missed it - Fred and George have just turned a first-year into a penguin somehow - "

Neville howled with laughter, probably relieved that it wasn't him this time.

Harry raised his knees and rested his elbows on them, forcing a laugh and trying to appear casual. He hoped his eyes weren't rimmed with red or anything. His heart thumped wildly against his chest and, beside him, Ron's breathing was rather labored, though he was clearly attempting to conceal it.

"That kid Creevy is snapping photographs like mad - " Seamus continued, not really paying much attention to them, rummaging for something in his trunk. Neville, however, seemed to sense something was up once he had stopped laughing. He looked questioningly at them, but politely didn't say anything. He seemed to be waiting for Seamus.

"Where's Dean?" Ron asked thickly.

"Passed out in an armchair. Aha!" Grinning, Seamus extracted what appeared to be an ordinary bag of trail mix. "C'mon, Neville!" And the two boys sprinted from the room.

Once the door had closed once more, Ron turned to him. "Barkers," he said weakly.

They looked at each other. A thick, awkward sort of tension hung in the air between them now. But when Ron began to lean in, placing a hand on the side of his face, Harry didn't stop him. He made himself meet the blue eyes that were roaming over his features in fear and anxiety; they were really quite lovely, now that he thought to notice. Then, he couldn't see them anymore, for there was slight pressure on his lips, and his eyes had closed, and his mind was wiped blank.

Almost as soon as it had happened, it was over. Ron made to draw back, but Harry took hold of the front of his robes, whispering, "Hang on," before pressing their lips together again. He had to know; he had to be sure...this wasn't just some casual experiment or some fling. If this was really happening - well, then, damn it, it was going to happen. He was snogging _Ron_ for goodness sake!

Completely by accident, Harry bit down on Ron's rather full lower lip in his shock and, yes, excitement. The result was that Ron emitted a dreadfully familiar squeak from the back of his throat, causing them to wrench away from each other, panting, despite the fact that it had only been a few seconds.

"Sorry," Harry told him, and he would have laughed if not for the seriousness of the situation.

Ron, however, grinned shiftily. "Harry..." he trailed off, seeming unsure of what to say.

So, carefully, Harry shifted toward him a bit and cupped his face with both hands, his heart and breath stuttering uncontrollably. Never had he foreseen this night...never had he really given much thought to liking Ronald Weasley as more than a very good friend. He'd always loved him, sure, but the love was brotherly. Even now...he wasn't certain that he was ready to acknowledge the possibility that brotherly love could turn into something more. Drawing in a breath, Harry slowly and hesitantly kissed Ron again, his thumbs sliding across the length of his cheekbones until they reached his ears, which were warm to the touch. Ron leaned into him, gripping his elbows. Harry broke them apart several times, pecking him gently, but repeatedly on the mouth. His hands soon slid into flaming hair, surprisingly soft, and Ron could not seem to handle it all for long; with a little exhalation through his nose, he detached their lips permanently to move down to Harry's neck.

"What's all this mean, then?" he asked, mumuring against his skin, and Harry fleetingly wondered if he purposely breathed on a rather sensitive spot underneath his ear.

"It means you should shut it and keep on doing what you're doing," he replied, tilting his head to one side, just barely; they could discuss this later on. He felt Ron's smile against him.

"Sure thing, mate."

And, without warning, Ron attacked his throat while simultaneously pushing him down into his pillows. Harry cursed softly, not having expected that reaction at all. Ron peppered his throat with kisses and moved back to his face, smoothing his hair back so often that Harry feared it was going to become as slicked as Draco Malfoy's. Not that he minded - it felt _really_ good, having someone touch him like this. He was a complete stranger to this sort of thing.

Ron began to suck on his Adam's apple, swirling his tongue around the little knot, and Harry unconciously gripped his bed sheets. Ron's robes pillowed around him, hiding most, if not all, of his body from view, and this suddenly caused him a twinge of annoyance. Daringly, he slid his hands underneath the material and tugged it up and over Ron's head, revealing the tie, white button-down, and black trousers. He ignored Ron's raised eyebrows and combed his fingers through his floppy hair. It really was long; when they snogged, it made a full curtain around their faces, and gave him goosebumps when it brushed his skin. Harry's supposed his own hair was getting a bit long as well.

Ron lay one hand on the pillow beside his head, and the other more next to his upper arm, just looking down at him. "We should have gone to the Yule Ball together," he murmured. Harry laughed.

"We did," he reminded him. "We barely talked to our dates."

"Oh. Right."

"I expect you're going to tell me that you weren't actually brooding over Hermione and Krum the entire night, are you?" Harry teased.

"Don't be so full of yourself," Ron shot back, grinning. "Of course I was. Er...actually...Hermione turned me down when I asked her because - "

"She'd already promised Krum."

"Well, that, and she said that, er, she thought I liked someone else anyway. I was pretty surly with her for a while, figuring it out."

Harry gaped at him. "You mean she - "

"Yeah."

"Oh, Ron. You've never been able to disguise your emotions, you know."

"Well, sometimes, it gets me places," Ron said, kissing him once to prove his point. Harry couldn't help but smile.

"I'll bet you cried yourself to sleep every night when we were in that fight before the first task."

Ron scowled at him good-naturedly. "So what if I did?" he challenged. "I wouldn't talk if I were you. I didn't, by the way. I did miss you loads though."

"Did you happen to tell Hermione that by any chance?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"No," Ron said. "She buggered the socks off me, but I never admitted to anything. I expect she knew anyway...girls are very strange when it comes to that stuff, aren't they?"

Harry nodded. "I was curious because she accused me of missing you once. Thought you might have been telling her things behind my back all this time."

"Nah," Ron smiled down at him. "Now are we gonna lie here all night talking, or - "

But Harry knew what he was going to say, and got ahead of the game by seizing the loose tie that was dangling onto his chest and pulling Ron down to meet him.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days were odd. Everywhere he went, fellow students either shouted their congratulations at him walking down the corridors, or eagerly asked him what had occured at the bottom of the lake, and was it _scary_? That last question came from the girls of the school generally. But all the attention wasn't necessarily odd. No, he was fairly used to it actually. The odd thing was that Ron was now sharing a good portion of his limelight. The same people who admiringly inquired after Harry, gushed over Ron for having been held underwater and tied down for an hour. And where Harry normally got embarrassed at the wondering stares of almost total strangers, Ron simply loved it. He told everyone with increasing pride and embellishment about how he had had to battle the merpeople before they managed to knock him unconcious, and only toned it down once Hermione reprimanded him in front of a gaggle of interested third-years.

Harry would have been very entertained by all of this if it weren't for the fact that it made him feel so very awkward. He considered the second task to be the reason for his new found...bond...with Ron, and when he received praise or even jeers from the Slytherins, he suddenly began to sweat. His stomach twisted itself into grotesque shapes that had no name and he tried to say as little as possible due to a bit of stuttering. It felt as if everyone _knew_. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, it felt like the grins or high fives everyone sent his way all contained some sort of hidden meaning. A _leer_. He half-expected them all to start teasing Ron for being the thing that Harry Potter would miss most, just as they had done to Hermione for Victor Krum. He was actually a little surprised that they hadn't done. All the other champions had rescued their _girlfriends_ with the exception of Fleur, who had rescued her little sister. He had rescued Ron, who was neither his girlfriend nor his sister - _Why_ weren't people making fun of them?

Perhaps it was perfectly usual to miss your best friend more than anyone else in the world. It certainly sounded usual. Perhaps he was putting entirely too much thought into this...no one else seemed to be bothered by it, so why should he be?

He had become much more aware of all things pertaining to Ron lately, so that could be it. Mostly he noticed their proximity when they were standing next to each other or sitting together at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall (like they were doing at that moment) or during lessons, but he noticed little, insignificant things as well. Ordinary things that he had grown accustomed to over the years, such as when Ron would lean toward him with his head bent to whisper something after Snape had specifically called for silence - when he would continue to do it after Snape whacked him a good one on the back of the head. He took more notice of Ron's slouch - which was most likely due to the fact that he'd grown about four inches over the summer and he wasn't sure how to handle the height properly - and the way he dragged his slightly-too-big-for-him feet when he walked. He was thin, he was freckly, his hair was long, and his smile was big and full of white teeth. He was handsome. In a way that had just sort of...snuck up on Harry a bit. The sight of Ron had always been an easy one, but he'd never given a thought to it before. And Harry thought that there surely could not be anything more amusing on earth than seeing Ron pull one of his absurd expressions, or - shovel food into his mouth as if it were his very last bite. For the first time in memory, Harry took a mental step back and realized that a couple of these were the reasons he was friends with Ron in the first place. Ron made him laugh like no one else. He was also extremely loyal, setting aside his not believing Harry when he told him that he had not put his name in the Goblet of Fire.

And now he had the memory of that flaming red hair forming that curtain around his face, that toothy smile right up close, those freckly arms encircling him...

"Harry!"

He started and whipped around to see Hermione watching him, looking faintly amused.

"What?" he asked defensively. Next to him, Ron was chowing down on two chicken legs at once.

Hermione gestured at his half-full plate with raised eyebrows. "Once you've put your eyes back into your head, you'll be able to see that Mr. Bottomless Pit over there has stolen half your food. And _then_ you'll be able to answer my question."

Harry glanced at Ron, who shrugged innocently. Concealing a grin and looking down at his plate to determine what he was supposed to be eating, Harry then picked up his only remaining chicken leg, and returned his gaze to Hermione.

"Alright," he said, his mouth full. "Let's 'av it, den."

She appeared to refrain from rolling her eyes with difficulty. "I was asking you what on earth you were staring at. But you didn't seem to hear me at all. So my new question is: _Who_ are you _thinking_ about?"

Harry chewed, his brain whirling at top speed to come up with a good, satisfactory answer. He swallowed thickly and said, "Ron."

From his left came a choking noise; without taking his eyes from Hermione's, Harry reached over and thumped Ron on the back. Hermione blinked, obviously caught off-guard as well, and tilted her head questioningly.

"Yeah, I was just thinking that I would make him a bet that he couldn't go a whole day without eating."

Hermione scoffed, recovering and grinning slightly. "Nice one, Harry, but you're not getting off that easily. Though, I doubt you _could_ go an entire day without food," she added to Ron, who was having his back rubbed hastily. She looked at Harry, her eyes narrowed. "I know you're thinking about Cho."

"Wha - no, no I'm not," Harry stuttered. "Really, I - " He stopped, confused. Hadn't Ron said that Hermione knew...? His plan had been to mess with her.

"No, that's quite alright," Hermione interrupted briskly. "No need to explain. After all, it's your business, Harry." And she gave him a very significant look before gathering up her book bag and heading off. Probably to the library.

Harry turned to Ron in bewilderment. Ron's eyebrows were raised as he stared after her.

"D'you think that's a good sign or quite bad?"

Ron shook his head. "There's no telling with that one."

Harry leaned toward him, his head bowed to speak in a low voice over the babble of conversation all throughout the Great Hall. "My eyes weren't really popping out of my head?"

Grinning, Ron muttered, "Sorry, but, they were practically touching Lavender's robes. What can I say?"

Harry, unable to help it, flushed.

::::::

Later on that day, they exited Professor Trelawney's classroom after a most annoying Divination lesson during which the old bat informed him that even though he had many times eluded death, it was sure to come for him by the end of this year. Ron had he spent about five minutes cheerfully abusing her before the former halted in his tracks, claiming that he had left his textbook sitting on one of the poufs by their table. Bidding him a see-you-later, Harry continued to make his way back to the common room alone. However, as he passed the girls' bathroom known as Moaning Myrtle's on the fourth floor, the large door opened a crack, there was what sounded like a suppressed squeal, and he was suddenly attacked by someone who threw her arms around him tightly.

He staggered backward a bit, gasping, "Hermione!" when he recognized the bushy, brown hair that was nearly obscuring his vision. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, Harry!" she cried, squeezing him once more before letting go. She stepped back, beaming brightly, but there were what appeared to be tear tracks on her cheeks. Harry thought maybe he was in a different world from the one of a couple hours back. "Harry, I can't believe this."

He looked at her warily.  
>"You and <em>Ron<em>," she explained breathlessly. "I never thought - but then you saved him from - and it was so obvious that - and Ron told me - and - oh, _Harry_!"

Harry held up his hands to stop her hugging him again, wincing. "Hang on. Ron and I aren't - "

"Of course you are," Hermione said at once. "You _love_ him. It _is _quite alright, you know."

Looking around to make sure there was nobody around, Harry seized Hermione's arm and dragged her into the bathroom so that they could talk in private. Luckily, it being Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, so there was even less chance that someone would burst in on them. Hermione had probably chosen it for this reason. Once safely inside, he whispered urgently.

"Listen, how d'you - I mean, why d'you - ? Wait." He spoke even quieter. "Is Myrtle in here?" Harry knew she would have the story spread as far and wide as possible in ten minutes; she was nearly as bad as Peeves.

"No, she isn't, I checked. I've suspected something since the beginning of the year," Hermione responded, a couple of tears slipping silently down her flushed cheeks. "When you two were in that ridiculous fight. You looked so miserable and lonely all the time - you wanted to be with Ron so badly...and _he_ was like a lost puppy without his owner. You guys were pathetic! I tried to reconcile you over and over, but you're also incredibly stubborn. I kept trying - I got near to nothing out of you, but Ron..." Hermione paused, a small smile creeping up through her tears. Harry stared at her intently, his curiosity peaked. Of course, he knew about this, but it would be interesting to hear it from Hermione's point of view. And he had to make sure this wasn't going to make things weird between them...his heart beat four times it normal pace at the mere thought. "Well, Ron broke down out on the grounds one evening when everyone else was inside studying and told me that he _did_ miss you. I knew he wasn't quite certain what to do with himself without you around, Harry. He admitted that he didn't really think you'd put your name in the Goblet. That he was just jealous."

Harry cocked an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Okay, well, he didn't exactly _say_ that he was jealous," Hermione corrected herself, swiping her hand under her eyes. "He didn't exactly say that he missed you either. But I could tell. And he was worried at the same time. It was during all that that I realized how much you two really need each other. It was a little later that I realized how much you really _cared_ about each other. When you were fighting that dragon, Harry, I rather thought Ron was going to be sick. He had his hand clapped to his mouth the whole time looking green as a melon and made these _awful_ noises - "

Harry cleared his throat, and shook his head a bit. Hermione stopped speaking and placed a gentle hand on his arm. She continued, slightly more calm. "And there was a moment when we thought it had got you, and he had _tears_ in his eyes. Thankfully you made up after that. But then there was the Yule Ball and I began to think that Ron was having a hard time finding someone to go with because of you - he wanted to go with you, I mean - "

"Well, so was I - " Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.

"Yes, but I admit that I had doubts about whether or not your problem had anything to do with Ron," she said. "You really are modest, Harry. So one day I pulled him aside and frankly asked him if that was what he wanted. At first he was shocked and indignant. But, gradually, he dropped his act and told me that he wanted nothing more. That filled me with so much worry and dread, you couldn't possibly believe," Hermione said, shaking her head sadly. "I thought he was going to go on hurting because he hadn't the guts to tell you and I...figured you had your sights set on Cho."

"Wh-what did you tell him, then?" Harry asked thickly, his stomach clenching.

"I told him to just see how it went. Give it time. Not to do anything rash, but continue to act normally. But, see, now I knew what he felt. For you. And I thought - I thought - " Hermione faltered, and burst into tears all over again.

Harry, having not been unprepared for this, allowed her to cry into the front of his robes while he patted her on the back in an attempt at comfort. He waited patiently for her to continue, though he had some idea of what she might say. His heart thudded dully in his chest...this was so much to take on at once.

Hermione sniffed. "I thought that we were all going to fall apart because - and then he asked me if I was going with someone and I felt so bad that I w_as_. I was tempted to tell Victor that I couldn't go with him, but, of course, I couldn't do that, it would have been so rude - and I sort of hoped that neither of you would be able to find dates and you would just sort of - fall in together. As friends at least. But I knew that you had to have someone to open the ball. I was glad when you manged to cow rope the Patil twins into going with you both because I knew that neither of you had the slightest feelings for them really. The night of the Ball, I couldn't help but notice that I was right; neither of you seemed even remotely interested in your dates. I tried to stay away from you both to give you space to...talk, I suppose. You've no idea how hopeful I was when I saw that the seats you'd been occupying the entire evening were empty, and you were nowhere to be seen, yet Padma and Parvati were dancing away happily with a string of Durmstrang boys - "

"That was when we had decided to take a walk," Harry told her, recalling. "It was when we found out about Hagrid being half-giant."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. But then Ron had to go and pretend to be angry with me for coming with Victor instead of him and I knew he hadn't said a thing to you. Still...I was very pleased that you seemed to be content with spending all of your time with Ron that night. True, your eyes darted over to Cho and Cedric more often than not - "

"Hermione, I _never_ even considered Ron as anything but my best mate - "

"Oh, yes, you did, Harry," Hermione said knowingly. "You rescued him from the lake."

Harry stared at her.

"You've always held a soft spot for him. It simply became more pronounced this year because of everything that's happened. It was when McGonagall took us into her office and explained what we were going to be doing that I realized - and you should have seen the look on Ron's face - we were both grinning so much that McGonagall asked us if we thought we might be having a panic attack."

Harry chuckled in spite of himself. Then the smile slipped from his face just as quickly as it had come. "But, Hermione, I thought _you_..."

Hermione smiled at him gently. "I did, Harry. Only for a little while. But to _me_, Ron will only ever be a friend."

"And...it doesn't bother you that...I mean, if Ron and I started going out together - "

"No. Not at all," Hermione said firmly. "Ron makes you happy, Harry. Even if he is a complete arse at times..."

For the second time that day, Harry flushed. It was just so odd to be talking about Ron like this...but it made him feel tingly all over. It caused excitement to bubble just underneath his surface, as if it were about to reach its boiling point. Hermione put a palm to his cheek, barely concealing a small smirk.

"I don't know what happened or how it happened," she said to him soothingly. "But I can see that _some_thing happened between the two of you, and mark my words, Harry, it's the best thing that could have happened at this point. Enjoy it." She then replaced her palm with her lips in a swift kiss, and exited the bathroom, her bag thrown over her shoulders, now positively howling.

Harry stood there for a moment, emotions stampeding throughout him. He had to find Ron. He had had no clue that Ron had been practically pining after him all this time...He sprinted from the bathroom. Once he found himself in an empty corridor, he plunged his hand inside his own book bag in search of the Marauder's Map. It was a few moments before he remembered that Professor Moody still had it. Cursing under his breath, Harry continued on at a slightly slower pace until he had made it a quarter of the way to the Gryffindor common room. Ron was probably there grabbing his Potions book, as that was their next lesson.

Sure enough, just as he approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, it swung open to cough out the very person he so desperately wanted to see. He looked up and spotted Harry, his Potions book tucked up underneath his arm, and his expression brightened.

"They've put up a date for the next Hogsmeade weekend," Ron informed him. "Should be a good one - "

"C'mon," Harry interrupted, hardly hearing him. "Potions."

His voice must have sounded off because Ron looked at him funny, but followed him at once. He lead them silently down the corridor and then up a few staircases before Ron stopped him, tugging on the loose sleeve of his robes.

"Dungeon's downstairs, mate," he reminded him. "That's why it's the dungeon."

Harry waved him off impatiently and kept on climbing. If his memory served him correctly, Dumbledore had said something to him about a room that only appeared when it was needed...wasn't it on the seventh floor? He hoped that he would be able to find it. It was certainly needed.

Ron seemed to sense that Harry was in an odd mood and didn't speak again until they had reached the seventh floor and stopped. Not many people travelled in this direction apparently; the corridor was quite devoid of life.

"Er...any particular reason we're up here?" he asked as Harry stared around, wondering in which direction they ought to go.

"Yes," Harry said simply, starting for his left. They passed many tapestries, including one of Barnabus the Barmy who appeared to be attempting to teach trolls how to do the ballet, and were forced to come to a halt at a solid wall at the end of the hall.

Harry whirled around. Where was the room? There wasn't even a door. Wasn't one supposed to appear or something? Perhaps it took a moment for the magic to work...

He shot off walking again with Ron following him perplexedly, and only stopped at the complete opposite end of where they had been. Now, he ought to be properly distributed. He turned, but still there was no door to a mysterious room. Concerned that he had maybe got the wrong floor or that maybe he wasn't truly in great need of the room, Harry began walking the length of the corridor once more, hoping that the third time was the charm. He passed Barnabus the Barmy -

"Oi!" Ron shouted suddenly. Harry skidded to a stop. There it was. A door that had most definitely not been there before. His stomach swooped pleasantly as he strode up to it and gripped the large, brass door handle. It opened without so much as a creek and he cautiously peeked inside - and stifled a gasp.

"Bloody hell..." Ron murmured at Harry's back, peering over his head.

The room was by no means the largest one he had ever seen within the castle (in fact, it was rather small), but the way in which it was decorated was either a massive coincidence, or just part of the way the room worked. It was done up in Gryffindor colors, with hangings all over the ceiling, and a soft, mushy-looking rug covering the floor. The room was warm, literally and figuritively, and there were what seemed to be two comfortable-looking hammocks suspended from the ceiling along with the hangings, side-by-side. These were the only furniture. They swayed gently, invitingly...There were no windows. The atmosphere in the room was calming...but passionately so. It gave off an air of being a place in which a person would not want to spend a long amount of time, but a wonderful place in which to skip a lesson or two. A place to spend that hour or so with one specific person...a lounge-about room. A wonderful, lovely, perfect room. Harry was overjoyed. He whipped around, grinning, at Ron, who was still gazing around in amazement.

"This is like - like someone made this room - "

"For two Gryffindors, right?" Harry finished for him. "To skip lessons?"

Ron glanced down at him in both amusement and suspicion. "What is this place?" He shut the door behind them with his foot.

"Dumbledore mentioned it once - at the Yule Ball," Harry explained, still grinning. "He said he stumbled across it one morning when he really needed a toilet. When he went in - there were rows and rows of different-colored chamber pots! Mad, eh?"

"So, it's like...a room that transforms into...whatever you want it to be?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I suppose, yeah," Harry answered, simultaneously shrugging one shoulder and nodding.

"Wicked," Ron breathed, his eyes darting around the room once more. Harry watched him, unable to suppress his excitement. Eventually, Ron looked back at him, his own wide grin growing. "You thought of this?"

"Obviously."

"What made you?"

"Ran into Hermione."

"She knows about this place as well?"

Harry shook his head. "No. At least, I don't think she does. No, she - told me about - " he gestured toward Ron, who immediately looked nervous. Harry ignored this. "You prat, Ron. You ought to have told me sooner. It's _only_ me."

"Only you?" Ron repeated, his eyebrows disappearing completely into his fringe. "Well, that was it, wasn't it?"

"What was?"

"It's _you_," Ron breathed as if that completely settled the matter. And he slowly took a step forward, leaned down, and kissed Harry, gently and chastely on the mouth.

Harry's mind was wiped blank just like the first time, and he returned the pressure on his lips, his hands flying to Ron's forearms. This time was a rather different experience than when they had been sitting down. For one, Ron was considerably taller than he was, so he had to sort of tilt his face upward, and, second, he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do with his body.

After a moment, Ron closed some of the space between them, his hands slipping into Harry's hair on either side of his head. A tongue swiped his lower lip, jolting him, and he allowed Ron to enter his mouth. He did so slowly, cautiously...but suddenly pulled back.

Harry opened his eyes, blinking in disappointment.

"Hermione'll know why we've skived off Potions."

"Yeah, I expect she will," Harry agreed, gazing unfocusedly up at him.

"She's gonna be insufferable, you know."

"Mm-hm," Harry said distractedly. "I don't exactly care at the moment..."

Ron smiled and leaned down to envelope him in warmth and familiar scent once more. He pecked Harry's nose, and murmured, "Snape's gonna be livid...worse than Hermione nearly. This idea you had was really stupid..."

"You didn't have to go along with it," Harry reminded him somewhat irritably, staring at Ron's mouth with something close to fascination. Ron noticed this and pressed it against Harry's, probing. Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the sensations brought upon him merely by Ron's closeness. When he began to crave something more, he placed a hand on the side of Ron's neck, stroking incessantly with his thumb, and licked his bottom lip. At once, Ron opened his mouth and they began exploring, mapping each other out. In response to Ron sliding his tongue over the roof of his mouth, Harry half-groaned, half-grunted somewhere in the back of his throat, which resulted in a fierce flush that exploded over both their cheeks. Despite this, Ron repeated the action, and Harry was afraid for a moment that his glasses were going to fall off.

Ron seemed to have the same thought, for he suddenly leaned back and carefully slipped the glasses from his face, tucking them into the front of Harry's robes. He kissed the bridge of Harry's nose where the glasses had been. Harry felt tingly again.

Leaning up on his tiptoes a bit, he wound his arms around Ron's neck, trailing his lips over it, unable to see a thing. Ron, in turn, wrapped his long arms around Harry's middle.

"You're a bloody midget," he muttered quietly into his ear.

Goosebumps erupted underneath the spot Ron's breath touched. Harry struggled not to react in any other way except to say just as quietly, "S'not my fault..."

"Never said it was."

But Harry heard so much more in that statement than what it appeared to be on the surface. Two that made the top of the list were fierce approval and...longing. Of course, he knew that Ron didn't give a rat's arse if he was tall and thick like Victor Krum, handsome like Cedric Diggory, or small and wiry like one of the Creevy brothers. He was Harry, and that was exactly what Ron liked about him - to hear the acceptance so clearly in his voice nearly tossed him over the edge. He shut his eyes against Ron's neck and murmured his name desperately.

"Yeah, mate." Ron's voice cracked.

"D'you mind if I - "

"No."

Harry laughed softly. "You haven't even - "

"The answer's no, I don't," Ron said firmly.

Harry raised both his eyebrows. "Alright, then." And he began to tug at Ron's robes until they were over his head. He tossed them aside and moved to stand on top of Ron's black shoes, steadying himself by gripping Ron's broadish shoulders. He could not see well at all, but he knew that Ron was grinning at him in amusement, and felt it when he helped to further steady him by locking his arms around his middle.

"What are you on about?"

Harry swept a hand over the top of the red head, bumping noses with him. "M'bout as tall as you now. Kiss me properly."

Ron kissed him quickly. "I have been," he protested. "Or have I been doing it wrong?"

Harry rolled his eyes in faux-exasperation and wasted no time in engaging him in a proper kiss, though he hadn't a clue himself as to what that meant. He allowed his instincts to take over. His height having been slightly increased, he could now wrap his arms fully around Ron's neck, thus pressing their chests together nicely. Ron made a pleased sort of noise when Harry slid a hand up the back of his neck, into his hair, his nails scratching gently, pushing him forward a bit...

Ron's somewhat larger hands roved over Harry's back, moving up and then down again, putting pressure on certain areas when Harry was least expecting it...it felt wonderful...he could feel a load of tension leaving him that he hadn't realized was there. And then the hands moved lower, sweeping over an area that made Harry start and nearly pull away. He didn't. Ron apologized breathlessly against one corner of his mouth, but Harry wasn't having it. He shook his head slightly, only wanting them to continue what they were doing. They breathed through their noses, into each others' faces, and Ron's hands still moved, seemingly unable to keep still. Suddenly they bunched, gripping fistfuls of material, and tugged as Harry's had done moments ago. His robes were pulled over his head, and, with impatient bursts of breath at being interrupted, Harry attacked Ron's mouth as the robes fluttered to the ground next to them.

He suddenly wanted them to be seated. They couldn't very well keep this up for long if they remained standing...and just as soon as he wished it, Ron broke them apart, gazing at something behind him.

"What?" Harry asked gruffly, toying with the fine hairs at the nape of Ron's heated neck. This close up, he had no trouble distinguishing his features...

"I don't think that was there before," Ron replied, nodding at whatever it was. Harry turned to see a large, comfortable-looking, golden, blurry, blob off to one side of the small room. Smiling, he took hold of Ron's wrist and lead him over to it.

"Room's magic, remember?"

"Merlin, Harry," Ron said weakly. "What's it expecting us to do?"

"Whatever pops into our heads, I suppose," Harry answered. "I was just wishing that we had some place to sit down..." They sat down. Then Harry had a thought. Deliberately, he lay back against the soft cushions, placing his head on the arm rest, and was pleasantly surprised when Ron hesitated, then bent down to meet him. They spent a few happy moments snogging, simply enjoying each others' presence. Then, without warning, Ron inhaled sharply through his long nose and Harry blinked; he had moved his knees apart to allow room for Ron to settle more comfortably into him (and he had done so), but they both had failed to realize that they were, apparently, rather sensitive in low areas. Harry emitted an odd noise from the back of his throat, which had closed up, and flushed, stiffening all over.

"Harry," Ron whispered coarsely above him. His head appeared to be on fire. Harry could feel the ends of his hair brush his skin, and it only served to heighten his senses further. He suppressed a shiver, closing his eyes tightly.

"Don't stop now, mate..." he whispered back.

With a strangled sort of moan, Ron began to trail quick, soft kisses down his neck. He didn't get very far, however, due to the high-collared button-down that all Hogwartians were required to wear. His breaths coming out in little bursts, Ron unbuttoned the garment with ease, and got to work on the trousers. He didn't even bother, Harry noticed wildly, to push the shirt from his shoulders or take it off in any way at all. Perhaps he only cared to see the pale skin underneath -

Ron got the trouser button undone, but left it at that. Harry was rather grateful, because they were going a bit fast...He toed off his shoes and let them fall to the ground next to the golden couch. Ron did the same with his own.

"Blimey," he murmured, before pressing his lips to Harry's neck again. His heart began to beat very quickly - he was sure Ron would be able to feel it - and sure enough, Ron soon found his pulse point and stilled over it for a bit, then began to suck on it.

Harry let out a soft whimper and immediately wished he hadn't. But Ron didn't seem to mind - in fact, he swept his tongue over the spot once more, and moved to his collarbone, his hands planted firmly on Harry's waist. Harry felt almost as if he were being dominated...and it didn't bother him in the slightest. It wouldn't hurt to let Ron take control for once.

Ron seemed to realize, when Harry went completely limp under his ministrations, that he was going to be allowed to do anything he wanted for at least the next half-hour. Maybe even the whole hour. This thrilled Harry to no end...he was beginning to wonder why they had never thought of this before. Why they had never begun a relationship. His brain was running away without him and he couldn't understand - Ron's lips were moving down his chest, down his stomach. His muscles contracted horribly. Then the lips moved back up, but a hand stayed where they had been. Slowly, stealthily it seemed, it crept downward, and slipped just under the waistband of Harry's trousers, while Ron kissed and suckled on his jaw, his ear...

Unconciously, Harry pressed up against the hand, his breathing erratic. Ron groaned softly, his fingertips just brushing past the bulge that was rapidly forming. Harry jerked at the sensation, having never _dreamed_ that it would feel that good...Ron gently kissed his temple, and pressed his palm flat to the bulge, rubbing a bit. Harry was forced to arch his back as the incredible feeling consumed him - a strange, unfamilar feeling - and cursed underneath his breath. Ron applied more pressure; Harry nearly mangled his lip in the effort to keep quiet and felt very much like protesting when Ron withdrew his hand some moments later. He somehow manged to control himself.

"Hey, hey - "

Ron had hold of his trousers, and was in the process of tugging them down. Harry bit his tongue once more. When they were around his shins, he watched as his best mate struggled to tug down his own. He wondered vaguely what on earth they thought they were doing - however - upon seeing that Ron was in much the same state as he was, that thought disappeared completely, to be replaced by intense interest and an extreme sort of excitement he had clearly never experienced before.

Ron leaned over him, his arms on either side of him. Harry closed his eyes expectantly, thinking that Ron was going to kiss him, and was not disappointed. He could tell that Ron was keeping his body held aloft on purpose; he had to admit himself that the idea of contact in that way was a bit disconcerting...while at the same time, a bit wonderful. On impulse, Harry reached up and unbuttoned a few of Ron's shirt buttons as well, until the flaps were hanging open, brushing his bare skin. Suddenly, Ron's lips detached from his mouth and landed on his ear.

"I-is this okay?" he muttered urgently.

Harry groaned his approval, turning his head frantically to try and meet his lips again. Ron chuckled softly into his mouth, and, to Harry's utter delight, lowered his body down to meet his.

He simply was not used to being pressed against someone else this way...and he knew that Ron had never experienced this before either. But it was different for Harry. Because, growing up, he hadn't ever been touched by the Dursley's or anyone else who happened to come along. They all hated him, thought he wasn't worth an owl dropping on the window sill. They valued Ripper the dog's poo on Aunt Petunia's kitchen floor more than they valued for him, for goodness sake. He wasn't used to hugs, kisses, appreciation - any of that. But Ron - Ron had tons of red-headed family members who had doted on him and loved him his entire life. He knew how to go about this, and Harry - Harry didn't. But that certainly didn't mean he didn't know how to enjoy it. He knew that this was something special and he intended to get the most out of it that he could. He kissed Ron with everything he had, clutching his long hair with one hand and running the other up through the loose flap of his shirt, feeling the warm skin that he suspected must be covered with freckles. He would never be able to see them without his glasses on however, which he regretted - they were somewhere near the door, along with his robes. Ron molded himself to Harry's touch, kissing back just as fervently.

Once they both couldn't stand it any longer, Ron gripped Harry's face with both hands, pressing their foreheads together, and aligned their lower halves. Sighing loudly at the subtle friction, Harry couldn't wait for whatever was about to occur. Ron wiggled a bit; Harry held his breath. Then, Ron buried his head in Harry's neck and just barely moved his hips over his, his breath hot and unsteady. Unable to help himself, Harry thrust his own hips upward with a groan, heat blooming and bursting in his abdomen. He repeated the action when it got him a muffled curse word, and, this time, Ron met his thrust.

Soon, they were rocking into each other, stealing sporadic kisses every couple of moments, and totally losing out to the incredible bliss of the situation. Harry let out a pitiful whimper that was echoed by Ron, whose warm weight felt so oddly familiar - they were both beginning to sweat - Harry cried out at a particularly desperate thrust. In a fit of passion, he yanked down his underwear, then Ron's, the act causing rather a lot of contact which did well on the way of tossing them over the edge - but not quite. The end of it all came when their newly exposed and throbbing flesh made contact. Harry went blind - even more so than he already was - with a sensation so utterly mind-numbing that he forgot where he was, what his name was - he continued to rub against Ron, groaning softly and without pause. Ron cursed desperately into the crook of his neck, his hands gripping and then loosening over and over again on Harry's hips, as they continued to move.

Finally, they were spent. Harry let out one last groan of pure pleasure and Ron collapsed on top of him. They breathed as if they had both just narrowly escaped the Norwedgian Ridgeback...the room was suddenly stifling.

Once they were both able to string two thoughts together, Harry began shoving at Ron, silently telling him to get off. Ron did so, but not without placing a dry kiss on his damp collarbone, which, for some reason, made him chuckle breathlessly.

"Oh, damn," Ron muttered, glancing downward. This time, Harry burst into a series of breathless chuckles. Ron glanced back up at him in amusement. "What the hell are you - "

"We - we were going to do that all along, you know..."

"What?"

"What else could have made us think it was okay to skive off Potions? Because now it's quite clear that we are completely out of our minds."

"You mean to say - we were blinded by - "

Harry burst into full-on laughter. "Well, don't _say_ it!"

Ron snorted. "You're officially barking..." He climbed off of Harry and pulled his pants back up. Harry did the same, lifted his hips, still laughing. He wished they could do this everyday.

"Wish we had a Time-Turner."

Harry sat up, raising his eyebrows. "Have you got your wand on you?"

Ron checked the floor around him and shook his head. "Wait a bit," he said, and went over to the door where their robes lay and retrieved his wand from one pile. He also bent down and retrieved something else from the other pile; Harry supposed it was his glasses. He was right - Ron dropped them into his lap, and then performed a cleansing spell on both of them, pointing the tip of his wand first at his own stomach, then at Harry's.

"Thanks. Ron, listen, mate - " he said, trying not to think the bizarreness of it all, and sobering up a little in the process. Ron sat back down next to him; Harry was glad he could see him clearly. "How much do you reckon it would bother you if - if we told people?"

Ron blinked at him. Then his face split into a wide, yet unmistakably anxious grin. "You want to tell people?"

"Well, I mean, only if you - I reckon there are enough rumours about me going around that it wouldn't really matter, would it? I'm used to people talking - "

"You won't mind if everyone knows you're messing around with me?" Ron asked incredulously. "What about all those girls who wanted you to ask them to the Yule Ball?"

"What about them?" Harry asked, confused.

"Well - they'll know. And they won't...want to go out with you anymore, maybe..." Ron said, looking a little sheepish.

"But _you_ do," Harry said reasonably. "You idiot. You know I don't care about that stuff."

"Alright, alright, well - you want to tell people, then tell people."

Harry tilted his head, squinting at him. "They'll probably take the mickey out of us for ages, you know."

"Probably," Ron agreed, nodding.

Harry stared. "You really don't mind."

"I really don't."

"But - "

"Harry," Ron interrupted, "save us both the trouble - You forget that I'm a red-headed, blood-traitor, _Weasley_ boy. I think we both know how to handle people talking. And why would I mind people talking about something - this - I mean, this is - I feel like I've won the Triwizard Tournament for having finally told you the truth. I - I _want_ people to know."

"Great, so I can just - " Harry grabbed Ron's wand out of his hand, pointed it at his throat, and muttered, "Sonorus", before continuing, his voice now as loud as though he were speaking through an unusually large megaphone. " - _GO INTO THE GREAT HALL AT DINNER, CLIMB ONTO A TABLE, AND START SHOUTING AT THIS VOLUME ABOUT_ - "

Ron, having just about jumped out of his skin, now nearly knocked Harry over prising the wand from his hand to reverse the spell.

"Are you mad?" he hissed, while clearly trying not to laugh. "You'll have the entire Wizarding population in here - "

"Which wouldn't be a problem for you, apparently."

"What d'you want me to say?" Ron asked, shrugging. "Sorry, I lied. I absolutely don't want a single soul to know about this terrible, terrible thing we've got ourselves into."

Harry settled back into the couch with a small grin, satisfied. "Well, I had to make certain, didn't I? In case you end up hating me for - " But he never finished his sentence, as Ron leaned right close to his ear and told him to shut it in a low voice. Harry's grin faded a bit as he turned his head to look at him. Ron closed the slight distance between them, bumping their noses. Harry refused to blink...their lips met, slowly and deliberately.

When they parted, they leaned against each other, shoulders pressed together as well as foreheads.

"Alright then," Harry mumured.

Ron grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh, this is despicable," Hermione muttered for about the fourth time since Harry and Ron had come to her with their dilemma, their dilemma being that they had foolishly failed to show up in Severus Snape's classroom the previous day.

Given that each and every being who attended Hogwarts _lived_ at Hogwarts, excuses as to where they had been were very few - that they had been in the hospital wing was perhaps the most obvious one and it was also the one that Harry intended to use.

When they had emerged from the Room of Requirement to hurry off to History of Magic (for which they had needed no books because, well, they were more like pillows anyway), they had inevitably met Hermione, who had demanded to know what had happened to them at once, thinking that their absence must have had something to do with all things mysterious and terrifying. But with one shifty, sideways glance toward Ron from Harry, she understood, told off by an expression that clearly said, _Oh! Of course!_

There had hardly been another moment in his life when Harry hadn't wanted anything more than the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Ron apparently felt the same, as he had cleared his throat and ushered them all into Professor Binns's classroom, looking anxious. The lesson had not been entirely helpful in diffusing the slight tension between them, for they always sat at the same table together, and were always silent as the Professor droned on and on about magical, historical fact. And while Harry and Ron usually dozed or played games on a spare bit of parchment, and Hermione dutifully took notes, the only pupil to pay attention to what old Binns was saying - this time, Harry had known, not a one of them was thinking of anything other than what had just occured. Hermione, though she had bothered to take out quill and parchment, hadn't written a single note well into the lesson. Instead, she had sat there, gazing unfocusedly at the table-top, occasionally peeking over at them as if she couldn't quite believe they were real.

Harry had seen that she was torn between disapproving of skipping lessons (along with who-knew-what-else, he had thought with a rush of adrenaline) and being pleased that they were finally coming to terms with their feelings, or whatever rubbish girls got so worked up about. However, by the end of the hour, she had decided that she was entirely happy for them. "Just - for goodness sake, don't ever do it again," she'd advised them, and they'd nodded vigorously, not wishing to subject themselves to this kind of humiliation ever again.

Then, as their next Potions lesson drew nearer the next day, they found themselves in desperate need of an excuse as to why they hadn't been there, thus the reason they were currently gathered in the hospital wing with Hermione muttering repetitively about how despicable it was that they had to lie to and, or trick Madam Pomfrey into signing a slip that confirmed that Harry and Ron had been there due to a sweet offered them by Fred and George.

"Will you be quiet?" Ron hissed at her, looking over her head for a sign of Madam Pomfrey. "You're going to get us caught."

"_I'm _going to get you caught?" Hermione said indignantly. "Who was it that - "

Without waiting for her to complete the question, Ron jerked his thumb sideways at Harry, who scowled. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Right. You expect me to believe that _Harry_ dragged you off to some secluded part of the castle when you were supposed to be - "

"And why not?" Ron asked. "Why's that so difficult to believe?"

"Because Harry's - well, he's - " Hermione sputtered, apparently unable to come up with a satisfactory response to this. "He's - "

Ron raised his eyebrows expectantly. "I'll tell you what he is. He's bloody stubborn is what he is. Tell her, Harry," he said, turning to him. Harry swallowed, though a part of him wanted to laugh.

"Yeah, I, erm - it was all me," he told her. "Sorry."

Hermione simply huffed and turned her back on them. "Well, just because I approve of you two doesn't mean that you can - "

"Excuse me?" Ron interrupted. "We weren't exactly thinking, _Gee, this is okay now because Hermione knows_."

"Yes, we were," Harry put in when Hermione whirled around again, looking a little offended. "It makes us feel loads better knowing that you still want to...you know," he gestured helplessly. Hermione's glare softened immediately.

"Of course I do," she told him. "That's absurd, Harry, to have thought otherwise. I just _hate _lying to the teachers - "

"Technically, Madam Pomfrey's not a teacher," said Ron. "And here she comes now, so shut it."

Sure enough, the door to Madam Pomfrey's quarters had swung open and she now swept out toward them.

"Well, there you are," she said, handing the scrap of parchment to Harry. "Not that it'll do you much good. Please do refrain from eating anything offered by those Weasley boys, won't you? I keep _telling_ everyone...even had to patch up Filius Flitwick the other day..."

"We won't," Harry promised her. "Thanks again, Madam Pomfrey."

She nodded and they left her to mutter to herself about Puking Pastilles and the messes they caused.

Ingeniously, Hermione had used some sort of spell Harry had never heard of to make her forget what had actually happened the previous day, allowing them to quite easily convince her that Ron and he had indeed been in the hospital. Once they'd explained about the sweets, she'd thankfully asked no further questions. Harry was extremely relieved that it had been so simple...

"You're a life-saver, you are," Ron told Hermione as they traveled down a bustling corridor, their bags slung over their shoulders. Harry nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

"Yes, but there's still Snape," she reminded them. "He won't care if You-Know-Who himself took you hostage while you slept in your beds evening last. I'm betting on fifty points from Gryffindor, if not more."

"Each," Harry added gloomily. He knew this was highly likely.

Ron looked rather gloomy as well as he said, "Well...let's go to lunch. I'm starved."

::::::

Lunch did manage to lift their spirits a bit. As they sat down, Harry looked up to see the brown owl he had sent to Sirius with the dates of the Hogsmeade weekend soaring toward him with half its feathers sticking up in the wrong direction; March had brought cruel winds this year. Harry tore of Sirius's reply and the owl took off at once, clearly afraid that it was going to be sent back outside. The letter read:

_Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can._

"But - does this mean he's here?" Ron asked, having read the note over Harry's shoulder.

"Looks like it," said Hermione.

Harry sat there with worry churning his stomach, yet, he could not deny that he wanted to see his godfather. He listened to Ron and Hermione's discussion of whether or not Sirius was being stupid, allowing it to convince him to risk it all and go see him. Therefore, when lunch was over and it was time to go to the last lesson of the day - Potions, of course - he did so feeling considerably more cheerful than he would have done considering the circumstances.

The three of them decended the stone steps to the dungeons, chattering about Sirius - or Snuffles rather - when a curious sight halted them in their tracks. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there with a gang of Slytherin girls, Pansy Parkinson at their head. They were all chucking heartily at a magazine Pansy was holding in her hands - _Witch Weekly_, by the look of it. One of the giggling girls glanced up, noticed them standing there, and nudged Pansy's side, pointing. Pansy lifted her head gleefully and tossed the magazine to Hermione who caught it, surprised.

"There might be something of interest to you in there, Granger!"

Harry's heart sank. He had some idea of what that might be...no doubt involving some crackpot story about Victor Krum, embarrassingly exaggerated. But just then, Snape opened the door to the classroom, and everyone filed inside, the Slytherins still cackling. Harry, Ron, and Hermione began to make their way to their table in the back, but Snape flung out an arm to stop them, sneering.

"And where was the Dream Team last lesson?" he asked Harry and Ron darkly.

"In the hospital wing," Harry answered him, plunging a hand into his robes for the scrap of parchment. Locating it, he thrust it into Snape's outstretched hand. With black eyes, Snape searched it, and his lip curled up even further.

"I see," he said slowly as the whole class settled into their seats. Many of them were already watching. "Yes..." He gave Harry's face a sweeping look. "This shall mean thirty points from Gryffindor."

Before either of them could open their mouths to argue, Snape cut across them. "And detentions with me Hogsmeade weekend."

This was so unfair, given that Snape was holding a note from Madam Pomfrey herself, that they _had_ to protest, though they didn't get far.

"But - "

"_No_, Mr. Weasley," said Snape dangerously. "Do not argue with me. And Miss Granger..." he said in a low voice that carried all the way to the back of the room, where Hermione's eyes widened. Everyone was watching now. "Kindly come up here and bring me what you were carrying when you entered this class. Potter, Weasley, you may have a seat."

Throwing glares at him, Harry and Ron did as they were told, passing Hermione along the way. The Slytherins were all grinning malicously. When they had sat down, they turned their attention back to the front of the class, where Snape was busy flipping through Pansy's magazine, Hermione at his side, looking worried. There was deadly silence except for the sound of the pages fluttering, and at last, Snape spoke.

"Ah," he said calmly. "Here we are. _Harry Potter's Secret Heartache_...a fascinating read, I'm sure..."

The Slytherins laughed while Harry's heart stopped. Hermione looked over at them, terrified. Ron was staring, transfixed, at Snape, his mouth slightly agape.

To his utter horror, Snape cleared his throat, and began to read:

" '_A boy like no other, perhaps - yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter_ - ' "

Of course, Harry thought savagely, his heart now thumping impossibly hard against his ribcage.

" - '_Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss._

_"Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for red-headed wizards that, obviously, Harry cannot satisfy, his own hair being as black as a newly melded cauldron bottom. It has been reported that she has been seen with none other than a Mister Ronald Weasley, whom students seem to agree is Harry Potter's best mate. _

_"I see them together all the time," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student. "Granger and Weasley, I mean. Once I was walking down by the lake, and I spotted them doing a pretty intense bit of talking. It ended with a rather suggestive hug, if you know what I mean. I don't really get it, though, I mean, she's really ugly," Miss Parkinson tells us, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion. She's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it."_

_"It is also under good authority that Miss Granger has won the heart of international Quidditch player, Victor Krum, who is staying on the grounds of Hogwarts to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has 'never felt this way about another girl.'_

_"It would seem that Miss Granger has been toying with all three boys' affections, and that she was recently found out by Potter, who ditched her and prompty saught comfort in the arms of his fellow sufferer, Ronald Weasley. There is no news on how Victor Krum has taken this latest blow. On that note, if Miss Granger was indeed using Love Potions to wheel these unfortunate boys in, we know that such substances are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate - perhaps Mister Weasley.' "_

As Snape finished reading and closed the horrible magazine, the Slytherins burst into uncontrollable laugher. The rest of the class was silent. Harry, who had been burning a hole in the tabletop with his eyes, did not dare look at Ron, but when he met Hermione's gaze, he was startled to see that she was also shaking with suppressed giggles. Snape turned to her just as Malfoy turned to flash his POTTER STINKS badge at Harry.

"And, what, Miss Granger, do you find so humorous?" he asked icily.

"Oh, nothing, sir, it's just - what a pile of rubbish!" she burst out, giggling madly. "If that's the best Rita Skeeter can do - "

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape snapped, sobering her up at once. "The affairs of silly teenagers do not interest me, though I'm sure Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings. Take your seat."

::::::

"You see, if I hadn't made a joke of it in front of the entire class, they would have thought that we were taking it seriously," Hermione explained to him on the way back to the Gryffindor common room that evening. There had been whispers in the Great Hall at dinner; everyone seemed to know what Snape had done, and what had been written about all three of them, and it was inevitably the talk of the school. Though, most people seemed to find it quite as funny as Hermione had done, some people believed it and hissed abuse at her as she passed, or else shot Ron and him odd looks.

Victor Krum had chosen to eat back on the Durmstrang ship with his fellow classmates, and so had had no share in the matter. But Harry knew that he would not be able to avoid the attention and sympathy for long...

"What I don't understand is how that Skeeter woman could have known - "

"That she accidentally told a tiny portion of the truth?" Ron suggested. "Yeah, me either. _This_ was not exactly how I wanted people to find out."

Hermione nearly walked into a suit of armor that jumped out of her way just in time. "Do you mean - are you telling me that you're not going to deny that's what happened?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, I'm not going to confirm the bit about _us_ obviously - " he gestured between himself and Hermione. "But now's as good a time as ever to tell them - "

"You agree with this, Harry?" Hermione demanded as Nearly Headless Nick drifted past them, muttering miserably about something that sounded oddly like, "Headless Hunt...hmpf. Gallant gits..."

"I - I suppose," Harry said, though he too was taken aback by the thought of telling everyone so soon, especially under such peculiar urgings. "I mean, it's not like we want to hide it or anything," he said much more firmly. Ron actually smiled at him then, and Harry struggled not to be so pathetic as to be affected by it. Hermione, however, melted.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed. "Of course you don't, why would you?" She beamed at them both as they reached the portrait hole.

"Fairylights," she said to the Fat Lady's questioning eyebrows.

"Precisely." The portrait hole then opened to let them through.

The problem, Harry thought, walking over to their usual spot in front of the fireplace and having a seat in one of the large, squishy armchairs, was _how_ they were going to tell everyone. They couldn't very well treat it like it was another Quidditch World Cup, with magnified voices and thousands of watchful fans. No, it would have to be something that people just sort of...found out about. The _right_ way.

"Hey, Harry! Ron, Hermione!"

The three of them whipped their heads about to see Fred beckoning them over to a study table occupied as well by George, Lee Jordan, and a few random classmates.

"Watch," Lee said dramatically as George placed an absurd-looking hat on Fred's head. They all watched for a moment as Fred looked simply stupid, smiling around at them all. But then - Fred's head and the hat completely disappeared to whoops and cheers.

"Shield Hats!" George roared over the clapping. "Four galleons!"

"Four galleons?" cried Parvati Patil. "That's ridiculous!"

"Alright, alright - twelve sickles then. Bloody cheaps."

Numerous people began to rummage around in their bags for the coins and Fred must have whipped the hat off his head because they both suddenly reappeared. "We're also working on Shield Gloves and Socks - don't want our hands and feet getting cursed, do we?"

"And you're sure that all the Hat does?" asked one timid second-year. "We're not going to be walking around and all of a sudden, our ears fall off, right?"

"Absolutely not," George answered seriously. "Then how would you hear to buy our other products? No, that would be very bad for business, it would." He then began collecting the proceeds in the very hat they were campaigning. "They'll be ready in just two weeks, folks."

"Oi, Harry," Seamus called to him. Harry looked around, grinning, as did a couple of other people.

"Bet you wish you had one of these after that blasted article, eh? And you, Ron. Hermione."

Harry blinked, having almost forgotten about the horrors of the day, though he wasn't quite sure how.

"Sure they do," Fred and George said together, before they could answer themselves. "Only twelve sickles, dear brother," they nodded at Ron, their hands outstretched. "Brother's lovers," they added to Harry and Hermione. Everyone chuckled. Ron's ears were near flaming at the slightest mention of the article by their roomate; Harry knew that being teased about it by his own family was going to be the line between flaming and simply exploding.

"I'm not giving you two my money," he said in a tone that suggested he thought his brothers were quite out of it.

"But what's this?" George asked mockingly. "Is ickle Ronnie embarrassed? C'mon," he said, his voice turning soothing. "Now we know why Harry pulled _you_ out of the lake the other day, right? He'd - what was it?" he asked Lee, who was laughing. "_Found out_ Hermione?"

By now, Fred and George had drawn a crowd of what seemed to be the whole of Gryffindor House. They were all either laughing outright or sniggering quietly with friends, while shooting furtive glances at them. Harry knew that the simplest way out of this was to joke around it, but...was there going to be another moment like this? It seemed their best bet -

"I do hope you know that I would never trick Harry or Ron - or Victor Krum - into drinking a Love Potion," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Victor likes me completely on his own, and Harry and Ron are my best friends - "

"Oh, we are well aware of that, Miss Granger," Fred told her, smirking. "Honestly, I think we're all a lick more concerned with the boys' bit. Say - " he said, turning to the room at large and raising his voice. "What have we seen these two doing lately that would give Rita Skeeter enough energy to quill up such juicy gossip?"

"Well, that's just it, isn't it?" someone from the crowd asked, and, with a jolt, Harry recognized Ginny's voice. "It's _gossip_."

"Too right, it is," Fred agreed. "Nevertheless - "

"We saw them the night after the Second Task was over, didn't we, Neville?" came Seamus's voice again. "They were all alone up in our dormitory when everyone else was down here celebrating!" His tone was teasing, thus quelling Harry's desire to punch him in the mouth. Neville, standing three people to Seamus's left, said nothing, but looked up at the ceiling as if there was something very interesting written there. Harry felt a great rush of affection for him.

"Oh, is that so?" George's voice was full of triumphant glee. "And just what were you boys doing?"

"Snogging, obviously," Ron snarled. "You great gits."

This was too much - the entire room exploded into laughter. And then Harry, trying not to think about Fred and George while looking at them doubled over, trying not to think about Ginny, who, he knew, still had a small crush on him - shouted over all the noise, "No, listen! _Listen_!"

They all quieted at once, staring at him with watery eyes and big, silly grins. Somewhat taken aback, his stomach clenched. He looked over at Ron, briefly and silently telling him what he was about to do. Ron's eyes widened slightly, but Harry detected the okay to proceed. He breathed in deeply.

"This is what it is," he breathed back out in such a way it sounded nearly like growling. "Hermione never went out with Ron, though I'm sure they've hugged at least once or whatever it was they were doing according to Pansy Parkinson. Friends do that sometimes. Hermione never went out with me either - I have no idea where that came from. Hermione _has_ gone out with Krum, though. Only Krum - you've all witnessed that for yourselves. How Skeeter knows about the private stuff that goes on with them, I don't know.

"I did not _seek comfort_ in Ron when I found out about Hermione cheating all of us, mainly because she _didn't_, just to make that perfectly clear. But...you all saw me drag Ron out of the lake...I'm surprised we didn't get worse than this before now," he said, gesturing around him. Eyes were boring into his, unblinking, fascinated. Even Fred and George were quiet. He took another deep breath and let it out. "You all knew the conditions. Each champion had something stolen from them that they would sorely miss. Mine was Ron. Interpret that however you want."

With that, Harry broke away from the silent crowd and exited the portrait hole, attempting with all his might to tell his brain not to let him think about anything other than breathing at the right time.

::::::

Ron and Hermione followed him soon after, as he had known they would.

They found him kicking his foot once into a desk located in an empty classroom in frustration. He was not used to displaying his personal life that way - he almost would much rather have kissed Ron in the middle of the common room than have been forced to shout about it.

Hermione shut the door behind them quietly, as if afraid that noise would unsettle him further. Harry collapsed onto a desktop, his toe hurting, and still breathing like he was supposed to. Ron walked over and collapsed right next to him, frowning.

"Harry."

"What."

"I-it's okay, mate. It's out there, it's done."

"That was - very brave, Harry," Hermione squeaked, having a seat on the other side of him. They both sat so close to him that he could have fallen asleep right there and never moved. He jerked his head.

"I had to," he said gruffly. "I'm really sorry - "

"Sorry for what, mate?" Ron asked. "Like you said, it had to be done. Now everyone'll figure it out and, well, good thing. _I _wasn't about to stuff you into a cupboard under the stairs - "

"Right, and, Harry, I think you did a lovely job confirming what was true and what wasn't. To the point...a bit discreetly...you really didn't expose anything about us - we know you're not comfortable with that sort of thing."

"Yeah, I know," Harry gritted out through a clenched jaw, but he was by no means angry with them. "I'm being stupid..."

"I rather think it was them being stupid," Hermione said. "Now I understand from whom you accquired your lack of tact, Ronald. I mean, _honestly_."

"Hey - "

"Nah, they were just having a laugh," said Harry, shaking his head vigorously. He thought he could feel the stirrings of his own wonderful desire to laugh in the pit of his stomach...Ron could be a bit tactless sometimes. Lately, he hadn't been, though. Ron was being...great. Suddenly, guilt poured into the mix, stomping out all else momentarily. "Are _you _okay? he asked. He had the urge, since their arms were, of course, pressed together, to slip his hands into Ron's and grip it gently, but he did not want to do so with Hermione sitting there.

"Sure, m'alright. It'll take a moment for everyone to sort of get used to it. Especially...you know. But that's the thing, isn't it? Everyone _will_ get used to it."

"Yeah, I s'pose..."

"And on that note," Hermione piped up, "I'm off to the library."

Harry and Ron blinked up at her as she stood and strode over to the door. "It'll be past curfew soon."

"Yes, well, I can't very well waltz back into the common room without you two after what just happened, can I? If I'm caught, I'll pretend I fell asleep researching something. Meet me outside the portrait hole..."

"Oh - well - okay - "

She gave them a fond little nod and left the room, closing the door securely behind her.

Ron looked at him with a somewhat bewildered expression. "We owe her a lot, Hermione. Who've thought she would be so - "

"Helpful?" Harry suggested, smiling slightly. "Yeah, we owe her."

"You look bloody ridiculous when you smile, you know," Ron told him suddenly.

"Hermione was right about that tact thing then," Harry responded carelessly and without hesitation. But, in his mind, he noted that this was the third time Ron had commented on one of his physical features. The first had been when he'd told him to stop looking at him with his big, green eyes...the second, a slight on his height, and now, the insult to his smile. He wondered if this meant something...anything. Perhaps it was just a coincidence...

And Ron kissed him. Harry's stomach promptly did a backflip and he thought about nothing but the still-unfamiliar and wonderful feeling. He stood without parting their lips and moved so that he was in front of Ron, stooping down only a little because he was so tall, gripping his shoulders tightly.

They got so into it, that it took them a while to realize that they had leaned back too far - and that Ron was in danger of toppling right over the back of the desk. By sheer luck, Harry opened his eyes for a moment and saw the stone ground off to one side; grunting partly in panic and partly in amusement, he pulled Ron back to safety.

"This is not an ideal thing to be doing in a classroom," Harry breathed when they broke apart for air.

"Speak for yourself," Ron breathed back, trailing a finger down Harry's spine. Harry grinned, and pecked him quickly on the mouth.

"I reckon we shouldn't be here long...'bout to be curfew and all..."

"Right," Ron agreed, moving Harry's hair away from his face. "Shall we go now?"

Harry shook his head and sat down beside Ron again, turning into him and pressing his forehead into his shoulder. "I don't want to go back," he admitted childishly. "Not yet. I just want to stay here with you and forget about - "

"I know, mate. I'm not particularly excited to go back either. But I say we walk in there and just start snogging."

Harry laughed. Then, it died in his throat as he remembered - "D'you mind if I - "

"No."

"Will you let me get it out this time?"

"No."

He hesitated. "I'm worried a-about...Ginny."

"Ginny?" Ron asked, sounding surprised. He was quiet for a moment. Then, "Oh. I see what you mean..." He sounded uncomfortable now. "Well, I mean...it's like I said. Everyone'll get used to it eventually, right?" His tone had gone from uncomfortable to downright miserable in about four seconds.

Harry pulled away from him, sitting upright. "Absolutely," he said firmly, wishing he hadn't brought it up. "C'mon, let's go back."

Blinking, Ron recovered a bit and nodded as if they were headed off to battle.

**Author's Note: A bit of this chapter was taken straight out of Goblet of Fire. Like Harry Potter's Secret Heartache was almost verbatim, aside from the, you know, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Krum triangle thing. Or square really. I **_**had**_** to add some things...**

**Harry Potter and all its wonderfulness most certainly belongs to J.K. Rowling, my idol since age five!**


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm afraid this is getting a little out of control."

Harry waited for Ron to be settled in his seat at the Gryffindor table before raising his eyebrows innocently, though he already had a clue as to what he could be referring. "What d'you mean?"

"See them?" Ron asked, grabbing a plate of sandwiches, and throwing a glance over toward the Great Hall's entrance. Harry looked there as well. A group of about four girls seemed to have just come in; they all headed for Ravenclaw's table, chattering away. Harry turned back to Ron and nodded, pretending to be curious. Ron stuffed half a bacon sandwich into his mouth and swallowed before explaining. "Them and another two girlfriends from Hufflepuff ambushed me yesterday."

"Did they?" said Harry. "That's odd."

Ron finished off the sandwich. "In the _loo_. There were girls in the loo, Harry. They're everywhere - and all they do is ask me if it's true you've got scars in other places besides your bloody forehead."

Harry stifled a chuckle. "You were prepared for the teasing - or whatever - bet you never expected this."

"Are you saying _you_ expected every girl in the school to drive herself battier than usual trying to get your attention? It's like - like they're offended or something. Like you didn't do right by them and now they have to prove that they can get you to bat for the other team again. People know you used to fancy Cho..."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. "How?"

"I reckon she told her friends about you asking her to the Ball. All girls have giant mouths after all - "

"That's not in the least bit true, is it?" said a voice Harry immediately recognized as Hermione's. She took a seat directly opposite them, smirking. "Well, this isn't what _could_ have happened, you know. It could have been loads worse."

"Yeah, I know," Harry told her, having already imagined the different scenarios. He'd gone to bed the night they'd told their entire House, thinking that the morning was sure to bring nothing but whispers and teasing. And he'd been right. However, there was more of the former than the latter, for which he was incredibly grateful. He'd expected nothing less than for people to be shocked.

"But even the teachers are talking," Hermione informed them, picking up a fork. "Just now, I overheard Professor Sprout telling Professor Flitwick that she'd always thought you two were quite good friends."

Ron chuckled while Harry gaped at her. He hadn't thought about the teachers talking. This surely meant that...all his teachers knew. Flitwick and Sprout, McGonagall and Snape...Professor Binns probably remained unaware of his surroundings as usual, but...what about Hagrid? He had to know. And Trelawney - that old bat was probably going to tell the whole class all about how she'd known it was going to happen because of the angle Uranus was making to Neptune the next time they met. And - Harry nearly choked on his pumkin juice when he realized - Dumbledore surely knew. There were rumours about Dumbledore himself...

Harry instinctively glanced up toward the High Table, as if the Headmaster were somehow listening in on his thoughts, but he appeared to be doing quite the opposite, engaged in a conversation with Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department.

"No doubt Moody knows," said Ron, unaware that he and Harry were on the same train of thought. "Sees and hears everything around this place, doesn't he?"

Harry nodded, feeling eyes all along his back. People kept staring at them as if they were going to burst into feathers at any given moment. He wished they would stop.

It seemed the only people who had any decency in this place were in his own House - Neville, Seamus, and Dean, for example, did not participate in the whispering, staring, or taunting whatsoever. They all seemed to feel that since Harry and Ron shared their dormitory, they deserved the utmost loyalty and respect. Seamus had even come up to him one day after class to formally apologize for the jibe he'd made about them in front of everyone, Dean by his side, looking serious. Harry greatly appreciated the support, for Parvati and Lavender were ever the gossipists, and Fred and George now enjoyed jumping in front of Ron and him in the hallways, only to fall behind them moments later to say, "Oops! Sorry lads, we nearly forgot that you prefer it this way these days." Luckily, their tones were joking as always; they didn't seem to mind in the slightest that the rumour Rita Skeeter had spread turned out to be true.

Ginny was another matter entirely. She had taken to avoiding Harry and her family altogether. They hardly ever saw her in the common room anymore, and she surely waited until Harry and Ron had finished eating to go down to the Great Hall at mealtimes. Harry was rather worried about her, but Ron insisted that they simply had to give her some time to process and become accepting (or at least used to) the idea. Fred and George were thinking along the same lines as Harry, however, for they had taken it upon themselves to talk to her and attempt to cheer her up. She'd Bat-Bogeyed them both, leaving them to deal with several hours of the great flapping wings that protruded from their faces - something that had earned her a round of applause and cheers from her sizeable group of friends. Since then, the twins had decided to lay off.

None of this made Harry feel any better about the situation. He thought perhaps he might try and talk to her himself sometime in the future, as much as the prospect terrified him; it could not remain unresolved.

"You two had better finish the rest of those off," Hermione said, nodding her head toward the nearly-empty plate of sandwiches. "We mustn't be late for Hagrid's."

Harry stood, slinging his bag over one shoulder, having been cleared of his thoughts. "Right. C'mon."

"S'not like Hagrid would ever knock off points from us," Ron pointed out, snatching one more sandwich before standing as well.

"Yes, but we respect him far too much to take advantage of that fact," Hermione told him firmly as they exited the Great Hall, pairs of eyes following them inevitably.

Ron gave a noncommital shrug, accidentally bumping Harry's arm. Harry bumped him back. Soon, the three of them burst outdoors into the bright sunshine, their robes whipping about them in a cool wind. They made their way down the sloping lawns toward Hagrid's hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, chattering about nothing in particular. But as they drew nearer, Harry felt his stomach swoop unpleasantly; somehow he had forgotten that they had Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins.

"Oh, dammit," Ron muttered darkly, frowning ahead of them.

"Just ignore it," Hermione muttered back as Malfoy whirled around to face them, flanked as usual by Crabbe and Goyle, who wore identical smirks. Hagrid was just coming out of his hut, carrying a couple of rather large crates, which most likely contained the Blast-Ended Skrewts, grossly engorged.

"Well, if it isn't The Boy Who Lied!" Malfoy drawled self-satisfyingly. A few other Slytherins turned their heads in interest. Harry didn't exactly know what he meant, but he ignored him all the same, moving with Ron and Hermione to join the rest of the Gryffindors who were already there, and who were currently shooting Malfoy dirty looks.

"Tell us, _Potter_," he continued, unperturbed. "What made you decide to start liking _boys_? No girl would have you?" He paused, his eyes glinting maliciously. "Well, on second thought, that's not so surprising. What girl would go for a Scarhead? A scrawny Scarhead at that - "

"What's the matter, Malfoy?" broke in Neville unexpectedly and rather fiercely. "Disappointed that Harry didn't go after _you_?"

There was a collective gasp, and then everyone, not including the Slytherins, burst into laughter. Harry, his eyebrows raised in spectacular amusement, glanced at Ron, whose ears were flaming. They were both laughing, surprised as much as anyone that Neville plucked up enough courage to say something like that aloud. Even Malfoy, though clearly embarrassed, appeared slightly impressed.

"As if _anyone_ would want that, Longbottom," he shot back, his smirk gone to be replaced with a scowl. "I don't see how Weasley here - " Malfoy turned his attention to Ron, " - can stand it. He's paying you, isn't he? Merlin knows your family could do with a bit of gold. How much?"

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron snarled, his eyes narrowed in intense dislike.

"I'm sure we're all are just dying to know what Potter's doing to convince you that going out with him is a good idea. Because - "

But before Malfoy had the chance to say anything further, Hagrid's voice boomed out, effectively clamping his mouth shut. "_Twenty points from Slytherin_! An' that's fer talkin' about things ye don' understand, ye little - "

"Hagrid! It's alright," Hermione interrupted hastily as he finally realized what was going on, while Malfoy's pale pointed face wrinkled in anger and indignation.

"It ruddy well is not!" Hagrid disagreed, glaring daggers at Malfoy with his usually friendly black eyes. "I'm not gonna have that sorta talk in me class, hear that? There ain' nothin' the matter with Harry or Ron, so ye lot can jus' - "

"_Hagrid_," said Harry and Ron together. Hagrid blinked and looked around at them as their classmates looked on with an assortment of expressions. "It's alright. Really. We've taken worse from this git before now."

Hagrid tossed Malfoy another glare before nodding his giant head back at them and, muttering to himself, stomped off toward the Skrewt crates, creating a wide path between students.

"Alright, then! Listen up!"

They listened up - the Slytherins grudgingly so, really too afraid to do otherwise, the Gryffindors with pride and respect. Especially Harry, who was privately touched that Hagrid had jumped to Ron's and his defense so quickly after noticing what was going on.

Thirty minutes into the usual challenging lesson (thanks to the blasted Skrewts, who had grown to be as long as their crates), he found the time to approach Hagrid while the rest of the class was busy trying to tie leeshes onto the Skrewts' necks - only it appeared that no one could figure out which end was which. Hagrid was reaching into the crate to grab a Skrewt for Harry.

"Thanks, Hagrid," he said quietly. Hagrid looked around at him, his black eyes kind again. He suddenly yelped and withdrew his hand; it was on fire. Harry put it out with his wand at once, alarmed.

"Don' you think on it," Hagrid said gruffly, as if nothing had happened. "Don' you think on it fer one second. Tha' Malfoy character is jus' lookin' to get a rise outta' somebody."

"Malfoy is the least of my worries," Harry told him, speaking in a low voice. "I'm more concerned about how Snape might use this to torture me or - whether Ginny will ever speak to any of us again."

Hagrid frowned and lowered his hairy head to speak in a low voice. "Ginny's been comin' down ter talk to me...Don' worry, she's alright. Jus' a bit of a shock ye gave her - an' Ron an' all. I think she knows she'll get over it - she jus' needs a bit o' time. Sweet girl, tha' Ginny."

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. "She's Ron's sister..." he murmured. "How much more messed up could everything be?"

"Nonsense," Hagrid said, shaking his head. "Tha's nonsense, Harry. S'not yer fault ye fell in love with the Weasley no one expected. An' there's nothin' wrong with it neither. You gotta' do what's good fer _you_, an' not worry 'bout what ev'rybody's sayin'. You know?"

There was a pained shriek and they looked up in time to see Parvati being dragged along the ground by her Skrewt, having managed to get the leesh on it. Apparently, it did not like it much.

"On tha' note - " Hagrid gave Harry a significant look and rushed off to help her.

Harry stood there. Was he really in love with Ron? Having never been in love before, he didn't know what it was supposed to feel like. He knew the concept, didn't he? Perhaps it simply meant that he cared for him and would do anything in the world for him, because when he looked to his left and spotted Ron feeling up a singed eyebrow, that was what he felt.

Ron caught his eyes and grimaced. Grinning back, Harry walked over to him, leaving the Skrewt he was supposed to be taming in its crate.

::::::

With all that had happened over the past few days, Harry had almost forgotten that Sirius wished to meet with him during his visit to Hogsmeade. Unfortunately, as the date drew nearer, he recalled that Ron and he had been given detention, and therefore would not be able to go.

So it was with great disappointment in his heart that Harry scribbled a note that read:

_Sorry, Snuffles, I won't be able to make it to Hogsmeade this weekend. Got detention from Snape. But don't worry - I'll nick some food from supper to send to you. - Harry_

Sirius's reply came quickly, which told him that he _must_ be very nearby, and contained words of disappointment as well, but his overall tone was of optimism, that there would be another opportunity to meet - and at dinner that evening, Harry tipped a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, and a flask of pumkin juice into his bag to send off.

The Saturday of the trip into the village, Harry, as he had become accustomed to doing all throughout his third year, stood waving farewell to Hermione and the others in the Entrance Hall, Ron by his side looking sour.

"I've never missed a trip before," he complained as the last few students disappeared from sight; they were conciously trying to put off decending into the dungeons for as long as they could.

Harry merely grunted, unable to dredge up any sympathy.

Sighing, they both turned slowly and began to make their way down the long corridor. They had hardly gone three feet when they were stopped by a loud, squeaky voice.

"Harry Potter, sir!"

Harry whipped around to see Dobby running toward him, beaming. Having no other choice, Harry beamed back, honestly glad to see him (and not only because here was another reason to delay their detentions).

"Dobby," he said as the elf skidded to a halt in front of them. "How are you?"

"Dobby is wonderful, Harry Potter! Professor Snape sends Dobby to find you, sir - to remind you not to be late, and Dobby is overjoyed to do it, for it means that he gets to see Harry Potter! And his Wheezy," he added, bowing to Ron. Ron looked sideways at Harry and grinned.

"About that, Dobby," said Harry, "I'll never be able to thank you enough for saving my life with that gillyweed."

"It was Dobby's pleasure, sir. Dobby could not very well stand by and let Harry Potter's Wheezy be taken from him! But Dobby must get back to work, sir - "

"Oh, yeah, of course - " A little taken aback by the abrupt departure, Harry and Ron waved at him as he scampered off, still beaming. They resumed walking, their spirits having been lifted a bit.

"I was going to buy him a nice pair of socks in Hogsmeade today," Harry muttered.

"Don't worry - I'll let him have some of mine," said Ron, who held a great liking for the elf. "Funny little guy, isn't he? Can't even pronouce Weasley properly..."

Harry smiled as they cantered down the stone steps to the dungeons. The smile was short-lived, however, for as soon as they came upon Snape's classroom, the man himself opened the door, sneering coldly.

"Well, well," he said, beckoning them inside. He shut the door behind them, and they were all plunged into shadows - the only light casted by a torch upon the stone wall. "I expect you know why you are here - I will not waste time lecturing you on the importance of attending my classes. Weasley, have a seat in the very back of the classroom. Potter - at the desk in front."

They knew it would be pointless to argue, so they did as they were told. They each found at their respectable desks, parchment and quill. Had Snape merely set them lines?

To Harry's surprise, Snape perched himself at his own desk, located directly ahead of the one at which he himself was seated, his black eyes drilling into Harry's skull.

Snape leaned forward slightly to speak, and his voice carried throughout the room. "You will write an essay on skipping lessons and lying to your superiors. Why it should be punishable. Two rolls of parchment to be handed in at the end of two hours. Begin."

Harry, scowling, bent over his parchment and paused, wondering how on earth he was supposed to write two whole rolls of parchment on such a topic. Eventually, he lowered his quill and began to scibble what would most likely turn out to be utter nonsense. What did Snape expect?

Half and hour into the task, Snape leaned forward again, but this time, his voice had lowered so that only Harry was able to hear him.

"It is clear that all this press attention had gone to your head, Potter," he murmured. Harry did not answer him; he knew at once that Snape was trying to provoke him, perhaps hoping to take off a round of points from Gryffindor.

"But I give you fair warning - pint-sized celebrity or not - if I catch you breaking into my office one more time - "

"I haven't been anywhere near your office!" Harry burst out angrily, rather caught off-guard.

"Don't lie to me," said Snape dangerously. "Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both come from my private stores, and I know who stole them."

Harry glared at him. Truthfully, he hadn't stolen either of those things from Snape, but he knew who had. As for the boomslang, it had been Hermione who had stolen it in their second year, for the Polyjuice Potion -

"Listen to me," continued Snape, speaking in an even lower, more dangerous voice. He plunged his hand into his robes, and pulled out a crystal phial filled with a plain, clear liquid. He held it up. "Do you know what this is?"

"No," said Harry, gripping his quill.

"It is Veritaserum - A Truth Potion so powerful, three drops could have you spilling your deepest secrets within moments. You might just find that my hand _slips_ over your evening pumkin juice, and then, Potter, we shall see if you've been in my office or not. Amongst _other_ things..."

Harry said nothing, but returned to his essay. He wouldn't put it past Snape to slip him some of that awful-sounding potion. He shuddered to think of what might come spilling out of his mouth if he did...apart from getting a lot of people into trouble - Hermione and Dobby for one - there was everything else he was concealing...like the fact that he was in contact with Sirius, and - his insides squirmed at the thought - what Ron and he had actually been doing the day they'd skipped Snape's class. He had a feeling Snape knew. And how he felt about Ron...

He ignored Snape for the remainder of the two hours, scribbling and scratching until time was up. He rolled up his parchment and slapped it to Snape's palm, striding as quickly as he could from the room. Ron's footsteps met up with his about half-way down the corridor.

"What was that all about?"

"The git's just threatened be with a Truth Potion," Harry said angrily, stomping up the stone steps. "He thinks I've been breaking into his private stores to steal potion ingredients."

"Why would he think that?"

"I dunno - I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright, well, I'm starved - let's go to lunch," Ron suggested, his stomach giving a loud grumble.

"Yeah - Hermione's probably back by now."

::::::

The following morning, at breakfast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their seats at the Gryffindor table just as the owls began to swoop in with the post.

Hermione looked up, her eyes scanning them like she was searching for something.

"Expecting a letter?" Harry asked her, looking up as well.

"No," Hermione said, turning to him. "I've taken out my own subscription for the Daily Prophet, actually. That way we won't have to find everything out from the Slytherins, see?"

"Looks like you're in luck," said Ron, nodding at a large barn owl that seemed to be headed her way.

Sure enough, moments later it landed in front of them gracefully, and held out its leg to which an envelope was tethered. No sooner had Hermione extracted it than four more brown owls, a tawny, and a grey owl touched down, feathers ruffling wildly. Hermione widened her eyes at them all.

"How many subscriptions did you take out?" said Harry, taking Hermione's goblet before it was knocked over by the cluster of owls, all of them jostling close to her, trying to deliver their own letter first.

"What on earth - ?" Hermione muttered bewilderedly, reaching for the grey owl's letter, opening it, and starting to read. "Oh, _really_ - " she spluttered, going rather red.

"What is it?" asked Ron.

"It's - oh, how _ridiculous_!" She thrust the letter at Harry, who saw that it was not handwritten, but composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out from the Daily Prophet.

_You are a wicked girl! Harry Potter deserves better. Go back where you came from, muggle._

"They're all like it!" said Hermione desperately, opening one letter after another. " '_Harry Potter can do better than the likes of you, you deserve to be boiled in frog spawn - ' _Ouch!" She had opened the final envelope, and a yellowish green liquid, smelling strongly of petrol, spilled over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.

"Undiluted bubotuber pus!" said Ron, picking up the envelope gingerly, and sniffing it.

"Ow!" said Hermione, tears starting in her eyes as she tried to rub it off her hands with a napkin, but her fingers were now so thick with sores that it looked as though she were wearing a pair thick, knobbly gloves.

"You'd better get up to the hospital wing," said Harry as the owls took flight around her. "We'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone."

"I warned her," Ron hissed as Hermione hurried out of the Great Hall, cradling her hands. "Don't you remember? When we ran into her at the Three Broomsticks a while back, I warned her not to annoy Rita Skeeter! Look at this one!" He snatched up one of the letters Hermione had opened. " '_I read in Witch Weekly about how you are playing Harry Potter false. With his best friend, no less! And that boy has had enough hardship, and I will be sending you a curse by next post as soon as I can find a big enough envelope. '_ Blimey, she'd better watch out for herself."

Harry turned a guilty expression upon Ron, who grimaced and shrugged helplessly.

"Hey, Potter!"

They turned to see Pansy Parkinson shrieking at the from across the Hall, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle watching with broad smirks. "Did Granger finally figure out that you don't like _her_? Why is she so upset?"

Giving them all looks full of hatred, Ron shoved at Harry, telling him silently to ignore them. Harry glared down at his kippers, his jaw clenching as the whoops and jeers sounded.

Hermione didn't turn up for Herbology. In fact, she didn't turn up until the very end of Care of Magical Creatures, where Hagrid had apparently finally decided that the Skrewts were a bit much for fourth years to handle, for the lesson that day consisted of rather cuddly creatures called nifflers. It was the most fun any of them had ever had in a Care of Magical Creatures class. The nifflers dove in and out of the dirt, bringing back gold coins to their owners, something which delighted Ron greatly, who managed to get the niffler to get the most coins, earning him a large slap of Honeyduke's finest chocolate. The bell rang across the grounds just as Hagrid yelled at Goyle not to try and steal any of the gold; the latter scowled, turning out his pockets.

"Tha's leprechaun gold, tha' is," he said, his beady black eyes narrowed. "Vanishes after on'y a few hours, won' do ye any good."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione (whose hands were heavily bandaged) stayed behind to help Hagrid put the nifflers back into their boxes, though Ron seemed to be quite attached to his. It kept sticking its long snout into his ear, sniffing eagerly.

"You missed a really good lesson," Harry told Hermione, once they started back up the sloping lawns to the castle. "They're good, nifflers, aren't they, Ron?"

But Ron was frowning down at the chocolate Hagrid had given him, and looked thoroughly put out about something.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked him, not liking it one bit. "Wrong flavor?"

"No," said Ron shortly. "Why didn't you tell me about the gold?"

"What gold?" Harry asked.

"The gold I gave you at the Quidditch World Cup," said Ron. "The leprechaun gold I gave you for my Omnioculars, in the Top Box. Why didn't you tell me it disappeared?"

Harry had to think for a moment before he realized what Ron was talking about.

"Oh!" he said, the memory coming back to him at last, "I - I dunno - I never noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn't I?"

They climbed the steps into the Entrance Hall and Hermione walked quickly into the Great Hall for lunch, leaving them alone.

"Must be nice," Ron said abruptly, stopping Harry in his tracks with his tone, "to have so much money, you don't notice when a pocketful of galleons goes missing."

"Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night," said Harry a bit impatiently. "We all did, remember?"

"I didn't know leprechaun gold vanishes," Ron muttered, avoiding his gaze. "I thought I was paying you back. You shouldn't have given me that Chudley Cannon hat for Christmas."

"Forget it, alright?" said Harry, trying to tug him toward the Great Hall after Hermione, but Ron wouldn't budge.

"I hate being poor," he murmured, glaring at him. "It's rubbish. I don't blame Fred and George for trying to make some extra money. Wish I could. Wish I had a niffler."

Harry's gaze softened at once as he attempted to find something - anything to say to that.

"Well..." he said eventually, his voice soft, "I know what to get you _next _Christmas."

But Ron still looked surly, so Harry glanced around to make sure no one was coming, leaned forward, and kissed him on the lips.

"If you weren't so proud, I'd split my Gringotts vault with you. You know that. You and your entire family..."

Ron shook his head and Harry rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Ron. It could be worse. You could have your fingers full of bubotuber pus like Hermione - she probably won't even be able to eat properly - "

Ron shook his head again as if to clear it. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, you're right."

Harry nodded in encouragement. "I know it's difficult for you to pay me back, so don't worry about it. Okay? It's fine. And it won't do any good to chuck out the hat either, in case that's what you're thinking of doing."

"I won't," Ron said with just a hint of a smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione continued to receive hate mail over the next few weeks. Following a bit of advice that Hagrid had given her, she simply chucked them into the common room fire before opening them, but this did not always work; many of her ill-wishers sent Howlers, which shouted insults at her for everyone in the Great Hall to hear.

It was due to this precisely this that every single living soul within the school knew about the Hermione-Harry-Ron-Viktor Krum situation now, but given that the actual truth was even more of a story than the rumours, most of them were aware that Harry and Ron were the item, and Hermione hadn't actually done anything tricky or deceitful to them. Only the Slytherins and a few of the more enthusiastic Cedric supporters seemed to continue to find jibes to throw at them.

Hermione, it appeared, wasn't going to rest until she had figured out how Rita Skeeter could have possibly learned about the information she had printed about Krum ("Because, well...he _did_ say he's never felt this way about anyone else.") and how she could have found out Harry and Ron so quickly.

Harry had no ideas to give her, and she became increasingly irritable. He suspected that it wasn't often she couldn't answer a question. She ran off to the library rather a lot - an act which Harry and Ron found incredible, considering that their workload had been immense as of late. They hardly found the time to complete all of their homework assignments, much less find the time to look up additional information on the many magical ways of eavesdropping.

"Ooh, if it's illegal, I'll have her," she said darkly one evening as they walked down a crowded corridor after Transfiguration.

"Maybe she has you bugged," Harry suggested flippantly.

"Bugged?" repeated Ron. "What, like, put fleas on her or something?"

Harry laughed and started to explain such things as hidden microphones and computers, while Hermione listened impatiently. Ron was fascinated, but Hermione interrupted them.

"Aren't you two ever going to read _Hogwarts, A History_?" she snapped.

"Why should we, when we have you to tell us everything?" Ron replied.

Hermione huffed. "All that Muggle stuff goes haywire around Hogwarts - there's too much magic in the air. No, she's definitely using magic to find all this out - the question is how?"

"Is there any point telling you to drop this?" Ron asked.

"No," said Hermione stubbornly. "She also exposed Hagrid as being half-giant, don't forget. I'm not going to give up until I..." But she trailed off, a curious expression crossing her face. Without a word, she turned around and dashed off up a stone staircase; Harry had not doubt she was going to the library.

"What's the betting she comes back with a box of _I-Hate-Rita-Skeeter _badges," said Ron.

::::::

They were grateful that Hermione did not ask them to help her in her vendetta against Rita Skeeter, as their workload was mounting ever higher as the Easter holidays approached. Harry still found time to send off packages of food to Sirius though; he would never forget the feeling of continuous hunger he'd felt the summer before at the Dursley's. He enclosed notes telling him that nothing out of the ordinary had happened so that he wouldn't worry.

One afternoon, Harry discovered Ron reading what seemed to be a letter - Mrs. Weasley had sent them all chocolate Easter eggs. Hermione's face fell when she saw hers; both Harry's and Ron's were the size of dragon eggs, but Hermione's was smaller than a chicken's.

"Your mum doesn't read _Witch Weekly_ by any chance, does she, Ron?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," said Ron thickly, his mouth full of egg. Harry noticed him slip the letter into his pocket. "Gets it for the recipes."

Hermione looked sadly at her egg.

Later that night, Harry and Ron were in their dormitory getting ready for bed, when Ron suddenly tossed a scrap of parchment onto his bed.

"Look at that, will you?"

Seamus and Dean glanced at them with mild, sleepy interest. Neville was already snoring behind his closed hangings.

Curious, Harry picked up the scrap and then his glasses, which he had set on the night table before he changed into his pajamas. It appeared to be the letter from Mrs. Weasley. It read:

_Dear Ron, _

_Here is your Easter present! Don't get too excited, the other one is for Harry. Please, do give it to him. And, if you want, you can give the small one to that Hermione. Honestly, Ron, I know that you all are going through tough times at the moment, but there was no excuse for what she did to you both. Now, I understand that she is your friend, but I will not tolerate her if this behaviour continues. And for heaven's sake, I've never heard of such dramatic circumstances! I'm almost inclined to not believe any of it, as it's so ridiculous, but if you and Harry are dating, dear, all I have to say is be very careful. Don't do anything to upset him any further. He needs all the love and affection he can get, you know, the poor thing. He still cries about his parents, bless him! I never knew. Your father thinks I'm being silly, taking what Rita Skeeter says seriously, but...one can never be sure._

_Do well in your lessons and make intelligent choices. We'll see you all quite soon, I expect._

_Love, Mum_

Harry looked up when he'd finished to see Ron lying flat on his four-poster, staring at the ceiling.

"D'you reckon she might be...coming for a visit? Is that allowed?" he asked, tossing the letter back to him.

"Nah," said Ron, shaking his head as it fluttered to land near his foot. "She always says that around this time of year. Gets really anxious for us to be back at home. Can you believe what she said about Hermione? I mean, since when has she ever given my mother the impression that she would be up to brewing Love Potions to toy with three boys at once? _Hermione_?"

Harry shrugged, thinking that they would simply have to set her straight the next time they saw her. "Well, at least she seems to be okay with - " he cut himself off with a glance around the room, flushing softly, but Dean and Seamus were in their beds. Though they could not possibly be asleep yet.

"Yeah," said Ron. "But she's never been prejudiced much, my mother."

Harry nodded, trying to picture plump, kind-faced Mrs. Weasley as prejudiced, and finding it quite impossible. He hadn't thought about Ron's whole family reading that article...he supposed they had all made their own assumptions, and, well, they would all know eventually. He fiercely hoped that Mr. Weasley wouldn't mind - Harry truly liked him and didn't want to be put into a compromising position should he disapprove.

"Well...g'night, I suppose."

Ron rolled over onto his side, facing the wall next to his bed.

Harry, after considering, slipped as silently as he could out of his own bed and tiptoed across the floor, praying that the others were sleeping behind their curtains. He approached Ron's bed and, pausing only for a moment, lay a hand gently on his arm, and leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. All at once, his nerves flared up, but he remained standing there.

Ron slowly rolled over to face him, his expression unreadable.

"You're bloody fearless, aren't you?" he barely whispered.

Harry smiled slightly. "Goodnight," he whispered back. But Ron grabbed him before he could scamper back to his bed, and shook his head sharply, his blue eyes black in the shadows of the room. He gestured that Harry should come closer. So he gingerly sat on the edge of the mattress, thankful it didn't creak, and Ron sat up, his expression now..._sweeter_ than Harry had ever seen it. Ron brushed the hair out of Harry's eyes with such care that he caught himself staring. He recovered quickly, however, and scooted forward until they were quite pressed against each other from the side. Harry leaned on Ron, closing his eyes as warmth enveloped him. Ron unexpectedly wrapped his long arms around him, pressing his face into the side of Harry's...he kissed him there. And he kissed him there again...

There was nothing for it - Harry melted. Completely and utterly. He dared not murmur Ron's name, but instead turned into him, burying his head into his neck. He had the urge to tell Ron that he loved him, but it didn't seem the time. It was dark and they were surrounded by roommates - and he didn't really want to say something of that magnitude just yet anyway. What if something went wrong? He was a stranger to all this after all...

They spent quite a bit of time in this position before Harry began to yawn through his exhaustion. Ron nudged him gently in the ribcage, telling him to go on, and brushed his lips past his forehead. Harry squeezed his hand and drifted back to bed, feeling rather warmer and happier than he had done in a quite while.

::::::

As they headed into June, there was a sense of buzzing excitement throughout the school; the Third Task was approaching.

Professor McGonagall informed Harry after dinner one evening that he was to go down to the Quidditch pitch with the other champions at eight o'clock to receive important information concerning the subject. So, at a quarter past seven, Harry bode farewell to Ron and Hermione in the common room and made his way down to the Entrance Hall, where he met Cedric.

The Third Task, he was pleased discover, was simply going to be a maze that they had to find their way through. The Triwizard Cup was to be placed in the very heart of it. His only major concern (besides the fact that their Quidditch pitch had been defiled horribly by ten-foot hedges) was that Hagrid was apparently going to be providing a number of dangerous magical creatures as obstacles to be placed along the way, so as not to make it too easy for them. Harry could only imagine what sorts of creatures he was likely to provide.

Once he clamored back through the portrait hole, he hurried over to the armchairs in front of the fire, glad to find Ron and Hermione right where he'd left them. He wasted no time in telling them what was coming.

"Well, that's alright then, isn't it?" Ron said, looking slightly relieved. "You're best at that sort of thing, mate - fighting off dark creatures and getting out of mad situations - this should be a cinch for you! Just think - " his face suddenly split into a broad grin. "You have a shot at winning the Triwizard Tournament!"

Harry smiled at Ron's enthusiasm, and then turned to Hermione, who, on the contrary, was looking immensely worried.

"Harry - I don't think you should take this lightly. Someone put your name in the Goblet of Fire and - well, what if they've just been biding their time? What if this is task they're going to get you? I think we need to start practicing defensive spells immediately - tomorrow, if we can."

Harry thought about this for a moment. True, someone had put his name in the Goblet, but...well, he supposed Hermione was right. Learning a few new spells couldn't go amiss. He nodded, and Hermione seemed relieved.

"But hold that thought," he told her, grinning. "There's something else - Viktor Krum pulled me aside after Bagman had finished speaking and asked if he could have a word."

Hermione raised her eyebrows as if she knew exactly what Harry was about to say.

"He wanted to know what there was between you and me," Harry confirmed while Ron snorted. "Seemed ready to use his fists actually - "

"Oh, shut up," Hermione told them both, her cheeks tinged with pink. Harry could tell that she was rather pleased. "Doesn't he know about you two by now?"

Harry merely shrugged. "I think he just wanted to be certain. I assured him there was nothing, but he still looked a bit suspicious, so I _did_ tell him that I was seeing someone else. He relaxed then."

Hermione hummed and then sniffed. "I'll - I'll be having a talk with him soon..."

"What for?" Ron asked.

"Well - " Hermione fidgeted, tugging at a loose thread on the arm of the chair in which she was sitting. "It's just that - I feel he's getting a bit too serious about me. He's going to be leaving school after this year and - I haven't even taken my O. yet. I'm not ready for anything like that - "

"The guy adores you, Hermione!" Harry said, though he could not say that this surprised him in the slightest.

Hermione flushed softly. "Yes, I - I know, but - "

"Not used to that sort of thing, are you?"

Hermione looked at Ron as though he had had just spat fire. "And you are?" she asked incredulously after a pause during which only the crackling of the fire could be heard.

Ron glanced down at his lap, the tips of his ears reddening. "M'getting there..." he muttered. Harry felt as if he had just swallowed a large ice cube. Hermione blinked, and then an expression of understanding dawned on her face.

It was rather awkward. They all sat there, not really knowing what to say to each other. Harry busied himself with looking around the room; Parvati and Lavender were hunched over a table, trying to complete a bit of homework, Fred and George were playing a shockingly quiet game of Exploding Snap against Dean and Lee Gordan. Colin Creevey and his younger brother Dennis were in a corner, apparently trying to bewitch a box of _Potter Stinks_ badges to say something less insulting; they didn't seem to be having much luck. The badges now read: _POTTER REALLY STINKS_.

Ginny was nowhere to be seen, he noticed dully. Though she was no longer behaving like a hermit crab might, she still wasn't really speaking to either Harry or Ron.

Sighing quietly, Harry turned back to the other two. "I'm going to head up to bed."

Hermione nodded as Ron stood, yawning. "That's a good idea, Harry. We'll want to get a good start on learning some new spells and hexes tomorrow."

"Right," agreed Harry, waiting for Ron to fall into step next to him before he began making his way up the staircase.

::::::

One of the many great things about learning new hexes and jinxes was that it seemed to distract Hermione from worrying excessively about Rita Skeeter.

Currently, the three of them were using Professor Flitwick's empty classroom for practice, as it supplied them with cushions; the Stunning spell (the first one they had agreed to try) rendered them completely necessary. Unfortunately, in order for Harry to practice it, it required certain sacrifices on Ron's part.

"Ow," Ron groaned as he slowly stood up from the ground for about the tenth time, rubbing his backside.

"Well, you keep missing the cushions, don't you?" Hermione demanded. "Try and fall _backwards_."

Ron shot her a glare. "When you're Stunned, your aim isn't too spot-on, Hermione," he snapped. "Why don't _you_ give it a go?"

"Well, I think Harry's got the gist of it anyway," she said hastily, going over to pick up the thick volume which she had checked out of the library for suggestions. "Why don't we try this one? _Impedimenta_...it says it's supposed to slow down anything trying to attack you."

"Yeah, that sounds useful," Harry replied, tightening his grip on his wand. "Let's do it."

And for hours they practiced - until Professor McGonagall walked in on them with a stack of papers and started, nearly sending them flying.

"Potter! Granger, Weasley - what are you doing? I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you cannot use this classroom for preparation - No, you will have to go somewhere else. Just not _my_ classroom!" she called after them as they headed out into the corridor dejectedly.

Over the next few days, they used a number of different classrooms for practice. Harry, having always been rather good at Defense Against the Dark Arts (even better than Hermione in fact), was getting the hang of these spells quickly and efficiently, and felt quite proud of himself. He wasn't nearly as nervous about this task as he had been for the first two.

He awoke on the morning of the Third Task, however, feeling a bit jumpy. He stretched and yawned, reaching for his trunk to extract his robes so that he could go down to breakfast; it was a moment before he realised that he was trying to pull his hat onto his foot once he'd got them out. Standing upright at last, he glanced over at Ron's bed and saw that it was empty. In fact, all the beds were empty. Then he remembered that, while he himself was exempt from the end-of-year exams because of the Tournament, everyone else was not - they had probably headed to breakfast early so as not to be late.

Yawning some more, Harry emerged into the common room, running his hand through his hair in a habitual, yet fruitless attempt to make it lay flat.

"Morning!" said a familiar voice.

Harry jumped, looking around, and grinned. "Morning...What are you still doing here?"

Ron stood up from the chair in which he'd been sitting to Harry's left and walked over to him, his eyes soft. He shrugged. "Decided to wait for you."

Harry looked up at him, all his nerves gone for the moment. "Nice of you," he commented.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "There's...no one in here, you know..."

Harry swallowed. Was this why Ron had waited? He couldn't spot any other reason. But did he want to - ? They hadn't -

"Relax," Ron said quietly. "I'm not about to attack you, should you refuse my charms."

Harry chuckled and, on a sudden whim, flashed Ron a rather devilish grin. "Why not?" he asked in a low tone of voice.

Ron blinked, obviously caught off-guard. "Why - why not?"

Harry took a step closer to him, having made up his mind on the spot. "Yeah," he whispered, despite the fact that no one else could hear him anyway. "Why not? We're alone in here, you say?" He paused, wondering if he ought to continue. The way Ron was looking at him, combined with a rush of nervous energy that burst forth suddenly for later that evening convinced him to do so. "Attack me," he growled.

He was close enough to Ron now to hear that he was having a bit of difficulty breathing. "But - but don't you want to e-eat or something? We don't have to - mmph - "

Harry lunged at Ron, pressing their lips together; they hardly ever had the opportunity - Ron grabbed him, holding him tightly around the middle. He kissed Harry furiously, actually lifting him off of his feet - something that had never happened before. Harry enjoyed it immensely, until -

"Oi!"

Harry's feet hit the floor with a _clunk_. He clutched at Ron's robes to steady himself, wondering what force on earth could have stopped -

"Keep this up, Ronnie, and you'll be late for your exam," came the voice of either Fred or George. Harry whipped his head around to face the portrait hole. "What would our dear mother say if she found out you failed an exam because you were too busy snogging Harry Potter senseless?"

"Be quite upset, wouldn't she?" said George, for Harry was now able to distinguish them.

"She would," agreed Fred, nodding. "And, I suggest, if you don't want her to find out - "

"You two had better clear out of here so that Fred and I can actually continue to enjoy the use of this lovely common room without having to cringe everytime we glance at _that_ spot."

Ron glared at the pair of them, but Harry was heartily embarrassed. He took a step back from Ron, clearing his throat, his odd mood having vanished as quickly as it had come. Fred and George grinned widely at him.

"Well, get a move on. I suppose we won't tell anybody. _This_ time."

Harry and Ron glanced at each other with somewhat fearful expressions - the mere thought of someone else finding out this exceptionally rare moment between them was very formidable indeed. Harry wasn't even sure what exactly had come over him.

They hurried past Fred and George to escape the tense atmosphere. Harry heard Ron mutter, "Gits," loud enough for the twins to hear as they spilled out of the portrait hole.

"Haven't they got their own exams?" Harry asked, panting a little.

"Yeah," said Ron heatedly. "But they've never been that big on their education to be honest. And they're obsessed with making money these days...I noticed it when, you know - "

"We weren't talking," Harry finished for him.

Ron nodded. "I think they might be having another go at contacting Ludo Bagman - they say he pulled a fast one on them at the World Cup."

But Harry's head was far too preoccupied by thoughts of that kiss to worry about Ludo Bagman. It had instilled emotions in him like no other kiss had and he now more than ever wanted to tell Ron that he loved him.

"Erm - listen, Ron, I - I think I - " But he could not bring himself to say it. It still didn't seem right...Was there no right way to go about it? Was it _that_ special of a thing to say? Surely not. Harry did not understand...and Ron was looking sideways at him as they walked, waiting.

"Erm, I'm a bit nervous for tonight," he finally admitted, feeling rather stupid.

"Harry, come on - you know you're going to do brilliantly," Ron told him. "You know the spells. I reckon if you remember them, you'll win for sure."

"Yeah," Harry sighed as they opened the doors to the Great Hall. "Yeah, maybe..."

They were met with a round of applause from the Gryffindor table, and a few students from Ravenclaw even joined in. Hufflepuff was, of course, wholly supporting Cedric, and Slytherin booed and hissed at him as usual. Ron grinned at him as if to say _I told you so_. Harry greatly appreciated it and smiled around at his classmates before taking his seat next to Hermione.

They enjoyed a nice breakfast - it inevitably ended with Hermione rushing off to the library with Ron calling after her in confusion, reminding her that they had a History of Magic exam in ten minutes - but it was nice all the same. Then Professor McGonagall approached them.

"Potter, you are needed in the Entrance Hall."

"What?" he said quickly, spraying Ron with pumkin juice, thinking of the Third Task and hoping dearly that he hadn't mistaken the time.

"The champions' families are waiting there," she informed him, and swept away.

Harry turned to Ron, who was wiping the sleeve of his robes across his face, in confusion. "She can't expect the Dursleys to turn up, can she?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno - but I've got to run, Harry - "

"Oh, right - see you."

Staring after him, Harry eventually got up and made his way over to the doors to the Entrance Hall, dreading it. This was the last thing he wanted to do -

The doors opened and Cedric stuck his head out. "C'mon, Harry. They're waiting for you."

Utterly perplexed, Harry had no choice but to follow him inside. He walked past Krum and his dark-haired parents conversing in rapid Bulgarian, Cedric, Amos Diggory, and a woman who must have been his mother, and Fleur and her mother, gabbering away in French. Her little sister, Gabrielle, waved at Harry from behind her mother's legs. Harry smiled and waved back. That was when he saw them - Mrs. Weasley and Bill.

Grinning broadly, he walked over to them.

"Oh - Harry, dear - how good to see you," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling warmly at him.

"It's great to see you, too," Harry told her genuinely. He shook hands with Bill, who, Harry couldn't help but notice, Fleur was eyeing over her mother's shoulder. "I thought for a moment - the Dursleys - "

"Hm," Mrs. Weasley hummed, pursing her lips. Her opinion of Harry's family was clear.

"Couldn't show us around, could you, Harry?" Bill asked, grinning at every inch of the place. Violet, friend of the Fat Lady, winked at him from a portrait. "It's been years..."

"Sure," Harry said, glad for something to do, and unbelievably touched that they had come, as if they were his own family.

They spent quite a lot of time walking the grounds around the castle, and Harry was kept quite entertained by stories of past misdeeds and old caretakers before Mr. Filch. By the time they got back, it was already lunch.

"Mum!" said Ron in surprise as he sat down to the table. "Bill! What are you doing here?"

"We've come to see Harry in the Tournament, of course," Mrs. Weasley said, patting Harry fondly on the arm. "How was your exam?"

"Oh, erm - it was alright - They're all called stuff like Emeric the Evil and Ulric the Unclean, stuff like that. It wasn't hard," he added when Mrs. Weasley looked stern. Just then, Hermione joined them.

"Mrs. Weasley!" she greeted, putting down her bag.

"Hello, Hermione," she said stiffly. Harry looked between them.

"Mrs. Weasley, you don't believe what Rita Skeeter wrote in _Witch Weekly_, do you? Because Hermione has never been Ron's or my girlfriend, and she did _not_ slip any of us a Love Potion."

"Oh! Of - of course not, dear," Mrs. Weasley assured him, looking rather flustered. But she became considerably warmer towards Hermione after that.

"So tell us, Harry," Bill said, leaning forward. "Was there anything even resembling the truth in that Skeeter article?"

"Er - " Harry glanced at Ron, who was busy trying not to look at his mother. "Well - there was something..." He felt very awkward trying to tell the eldest Weasley brother this...

"Yes?"

"Erm, well, you know - Ron and I - "

"Oh, Harry!" burst out Mrs. Weasley. Ron's head shot up. She threw her arms around him in a bone-crushing embrace. "I wasn't sure whether I ought to believe it or not, but - oh, I don't believe this - !"

"Mum," Ron said loudly, "You're smothering him." He wore a large, pleased grin on his freckled face.

Mrs. Weasley sniffed and let go of him at once to grasp Ron's hand across the table. "How did this happen?" she asked tearfully.

Bill was watching with wide eyes and Hermione's grin rivaled Ron's, though the latter's ears were flaming.

"The Second Task..." he muttered.

"What's that, dear?"

Ron cleared his throat. "You heard about the Second Task? All the champions had something stolen from them - they had to go into the lake and get it. Well, Harry had to come and get - me."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Yes, yes, there was something in the paper - " She looked slightly confused.

"We had something stolen from us that we would miss the most," Harry elaborated, feeling odd to be discussing this. "Cedric Diggory's was a girl named Cho Chang, Krum's was Hermione, Fleur Delacour's was her little sister, and mine - mine was Ron."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh," she said, "I see! Harry, how sweet of you to rescue my little Ronnie!" And she swept him up in another hug.

"_Mum_," Ron groaned. Harry stifled a laugh, while he simultaneously struggled for breath.

"Eurgh!" cried Fred and George together, coming over to them, having just entered the Great Hall. "What is this? All these _feelings_ - Mum, you'd better get a hold of yourself - Ginny's coming."

Mrs. Weasley sat back, looking up at them, still beaming with her eyes full of tears. "Ginny?"

"Yes, Mum, Ginny," said Fred. "You know the one - you gave birth to her thirteen years ago?"

"Ginny..." Mrs. Weasley suddenly looked between Ron and Harry, her expression horror-struck. "Oh no. Oh no, oh no...Tell me - how is she taking this?"

"Er, well - pretty hard," said Ron sheepishly. "We've tried talking to her, Mum, but she - "

"Shh!" said George frantically. "Here she comes!"

Sure enough, Ginny was moving towards them, conversing with a girlfriend and laughing at something they did not catch. She glanced up and spotted them - nearly her entire family and Harry watching her. She stopped dead in her tracks, the laughter zipping straight out of her. Cautiously, it appeared, she approached them and had a seat next to Bill.

"Hello," she said, giving Bill a hug. "What are you all doing here?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled at her, her eyes warm and full of shining adoration. "We came to see Harry in the Third Task."

Ginny smiled back, and, to Harry, it didn't seem forced at all. This made him feel rather happy.

He kicked Ron's foot under the table; Ron kicked him back gently.

::::::

"_I would now like to welcome you all to the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament!_" boomed Ludo Bagman's voice over the crowd.

Harry and the other champions were positioned in front of the maze's entrance, waiting for the whistle to go ahead. Harry's insides writhed anxiously.

"_The champion with the most points will be first allowed into the maze - in this case, Mr. Potter and Mr. Diggory! Next, Mr. Krum will proceed, followed lastly by Miss Delacour. On my whistle - three - two - one - "_

The whistle sounded shrilly; Harry and Cedric glanced at each other. Then, simultaneously, they hurried forward into the creepy darkness that awaited them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story so far! Especially the faithful reviewers, I **_**really**_** appreciate it. I know I have been taking quite a lot of material from Goblet of Fire, but I somehow can't help myself! J.K. Rowling's work fascinates me and the thought of putting my own twists and tones on the original has an odd pull. However, I am going to try and include more of my own original ideas once I start heading into Order of the Phoenix. Thanks again and enjoy!**

The smell of grass filled Harry's notrils as he slammed into the ground facefirst, clutching the only two things that were real to him - the cool handle of the Triwizard Cup and Cedric's wrist...

There were roaring cheers from the crowd - What was going on? Why were they cheering?

"Harry? _Harry_ - Are you alright?" asked someone, kneeling in the grass beside him. Hands seized him and turned him over roughly.

Blinking, Harry saw the starry sky and the half-moon spectacles of Albus Dumbledore looming above him. His scar burned dully on his forehead...Now there were voices everywhere, thundering footsteps, screams...

He was back at the edge of the maze. Harry let go of the Cup, but clutched Cedric's body to him even more tightly. Reaching up with his free hand, he grasped Dumbledore's wrist.

"He's back," Harry whispered. "He's back. Voldemort."

"What's this?" asked a voice. "What's happened?"

Harry saw the face of Cornelius Fudge appear next to Dumbledore's, white, and appalled.

"My God! Is that - but that's the Diggory boy! Dumbledore - he's dead!"

The words were repeated and soon enough, people were shouting it - screeching it - into the night - "He's dead!" "He's _dead_!" "Cedric Diggory! _Dead_!"

"Harry, let go of him," said Fudge, but Harry wouldn't. Then Dumbledore's slightly blurred face came closer.

"Harry, you can't help him now. It's over. Let go."

"He wanted me to bring him back, " Harry muttered - it seemed important to explain this. "He wanted me to bring him back to his parents - "

"That's right, Harry...just let go now..."

And with a surprising strength for someone his age, Dumbledore scooped him up and set him upright on his feet. Harry swayed, his injured leg would no longer support his weight, the crowd jostled around them, moving in closer..."What's happened?" "What's wrong with him?" "_Diggory's dead_!"

And then, another voice - "_Harry_!"

Harry blinked, trying to put them all into focus...if only for that one voice...

"Harry - !"

There seemed to be someone fighting the crowd, attempting to get through to him. Harry blinked some more - and someone grabbed his arm.

"I'll take him up to the hospital wing, Headmaster," said the someone, gruffly.

"No, Alastor, I wish Harry to remain here with me."

"Dumbledore - Diggory's parents - they're here in the stands," said Fudge loudly. "Shouldn't we - ?"

"I'll take him, sir, I'll take - "

"No, I really would prefer - "

"Amos Diggory is running - don't you think we should warn them, before they see - ?"

"Harry, stay here."

Girls were screaming, sobbing hysterically...the scene flickered oddly before Harry's eyes...

"Move aside!" yelled the same voice that had been calling out to him. "_Harry_!"

Harry lurched on instict, feeling as though he ought to move toward that voice, as it was so desperate - someone still had an iron grip on his arm - he yanked himself away, stumbling a bit - more girls screamed. He started for the crowd, and a much gentler hand grabbed him back.

"Please, Harry," said Dumbledore, "Mr. Weasley will find his way through soon enough...I need you to stay here."

"Mister..." Harry repeated slowly. And then it dawned on him. He swallowed, his head pounding horribly. He saw a flash of red hair, and Ron came bursting through the throng of people, his face set in determination and fear. Just behind him was Hermione, who appeared to be clutching onto his hand for dear life, looking absolutely terrified.

"Harry - " Ron choked out.

Harry's injured leg buckled; Dumbledore caught him under the arm just in time to prevent him from collapsing back to the ground.

"I've got him, Professor," panted Ron, finally reaching him. He tugged one of Harry's arms over his shoulder while Hermione watched in distress, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. "It's alright, Harry, really - " he said to him, his voice shaky yet somehow soothing. "I thought - "

"You don't know - " Harry replied weakly, and it was then that he realised tears were streaming down his face as well. "You can't - you weren't there - "

"Dumbledore, I've spoken with Amos - I've warned them - they're coming - "

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger - if you would kindly take Harry up to the castle - to Madam Pomfrey," said Dumbledore, turning away from Fudge. "Do not stop or speak to anyone until you arrive, do you understand?"

"Y-yes," stammered Ron, tightening his grip. As they turned, Hermione ducked underneath Harry's other arm to help hold him up, sniffing. Together, they half-pulled, half-carried him through the frightened crowd. Harry heard people gasping, screaming, and shouting as they pushed their way through, going back up to the castle.

"What happened, Harry?" Ron asked breathlessly; they were passing the lake, the Durmstrang ship...

"Ron," Hermione said, "I don't think now's the time - "

But Harry jerked his head as they lifted him up the stone steps. "Cup was a Portkey..." he said. "Took me and Cedric to a graveyard...and Voldemort was there...Lord Voldemort..."

Ron flinched so violently, he nearly dropped Harry; Hermione had to pick up the slack, though she too looked rather ill at this piece of news.

"Killed Cedric..." Harry said, unable to help the tears that now dripped from his face. "They killed Cedric..."

"Th-that's alright, Harry, you d-don't have to t-tell us anything more," Hermione said, so shaken she could hardly speak. But Harry couldn't stop.

"Made a potion..." he said softly. "Got his body back..." He was now being lifted up the stone steps that lead them into the Entrance Hall.

"He's got his body back?" Ron whispered. "You mean he's...returned? Harry, you can't mean that, you have to have been - "

"And the Death Eaters came...and then we dueled..."

"Oh, Harry, you didn't!" gasped Hermione.

"Got away...my wand...did something funny...I saw my mum and dad...they came out of his wand..."

They were approaching the hospital wing.

"In here, Harry...in here, and sit down...You'll be alright now..."

"Good heavens!" cried Madam Pomfrey as they entered, bustling towards them from her office. "Is that - ? What is the matter with him? Here, Potter, sit down - sit down, and drink this." She seemed to evaluate the situation very quickly and sprang into action at once. Harry was forced into an armchair and felt a cup being pushed into his hands.

"Drink that, you'll feel much better."

She helped tip some of the stuff down Harry's throat; he coughed, a peppery taste burning his throat. The hospital wing came into sharper focus, as did the three people circling him. Ron and Hermione looked as white as Fudge had looked, while Madam Pomfrey surveyed him with professional concern.

"What has happened, Potter?" she asked.

"You-Know-Who's back, Harry? You're sure he's back? How did he do it?" Ron asked at the same time. Madam Pomfrey gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

Harry explained to them about the potion; his scar wasn't hurting so badly anymore - as he did so, Ron glanced down and noticed the large cut on his right arm that was still bleeding profusely.

"Oh no - Harry, your arm!" He turned to Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to have noticed it as well, for she raised her wand and summoned something from her office - a small purple bottle. She unstoppered it, and dabbed a bit of its substance gently onto Harry's wounded arm. It steamed and hissed, but Harry watched as the skin grew over it, healing. In no time at all, it looked as though the cut were several weeks old.

Just then, the door to the hospital wing burst open, and Dumbledore, Bill, Mrs. Weasley entered, accompanied by a great black dog.

"Harry! Oh, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley cried, starting to hurry towards him, but Dumbledore stepped between them.

"Molly," he said, raising a hand. "Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He is about to have to relive it for me. What he needs is peace and quiet. Of course, if he would like you all to stay with him - " he nodded towards Bill, Ron, and Hermione, " - then you are most welcome. But you are not allowed to question him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening."

Ron stared guiltily at the floor. Harry gently gripped his hand and gave it a squeeze. Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was as white as any of them. She rounded on everyone as though they were being noisy, and hissed, "Did you hear? He needs quiet!"

"Headmaster," said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the great dog that was Sirius. "May I ask what - ?"

"I believe it is time for one of our number to reveal himself," said Dumbledore, nodding gravely at Sirius. Harry stood up too quickly from his chair; he felt dizzy and Ron had to steady him. Sirius looked up at Dumbledore for a moment, and then transformed into his human form. Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

"Sirius Black!" She jumped back, pointing.

"Mum, shut up," said Ron. "It's alright."

"Harry," said Sirius gruffly, walking over and pulling him into a tight embrace. Ron respectfully fell back a step. Harry, so relieved and pleased to see him he could hardly speak, hugged him back with intensity. "Harry, you've worried me so much this year - I just knew that something like this would - Are you - ?"

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured to him. "Sirius - " But he broke off, unable to say anything else.

Sirius stepped back, cupping his face in two rather dirty hands, his thumb sweeping Harry's cheekbone. "I want you to have a lie down, alright? Over there..." He nodded at a hospital bed just beyond Harry, next to the chair he had been sitting in when they had arrived. Nodding, Harry moved in that direction, while Dumbledore looked very somber. Madam Pomfrey retrieved a pair of striped pajamas for him and closed the curtain around his bed to give him privacy. As quickly as he could, Harry pulled them on.

Everyone gathered around him, either standing or sitting in the comfortable-looking armchairs that Dumbledore thought to produce out of thin air. Dumbledore himself positioned himself closest to Harry, peering at him through his half-moon spectacles. When he began to speak, his voice was tired and gentle.

"Now," he said. "If I thought I could help you by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allow you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain will only make it that much worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery far beyond what I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell me what happened."

Harry felt a warm hand squeeze his shoulder as he swallowed. Looking to his right, he saw Sirius, gazing at Dumbledore intently, as though he dearly wished to argue with him but understood that it wouldn't be wise. Something inside Harry was warmed at this. Here was someone who cared a great deal about him and just wanted him to be safe. Someone who was willing to argue with Dumbledore over him...Harry thought he felt some of his aforementioned bravery returning. He looked around at everyone else gathered around him and realised - they all cared about him in some way or another. Ron was standing at the foot of his bed, gripping the posts; he looked scared, but he managed to grimace at Harry in what was obviously supposed to be encouragement.

Taking a deep breath, Harry returned his gaze to his Headmaster, and began. He told him everything that had happened, neglecting to leave out a single detail. As he spoke, he felt as if a huge weight was being lifted from his shoulders - like something poisonous was being extracted from him. And when he was finished, there was utter silence. Sirius continued to grip his shoulder almost painfully and Dumbledore appeared deep in thought. There had been a moment, when Harry had told about Voldemort using some of his blood in the potion, when he thought he'd seen a gleam of triumph in the blue eyes, but it had disappeared quite quickly...Sirius had made quite a few indignant noises throughout, as had Mrs. Weasley and Hermione. Madam Pomfrey made noises of terror. Bill and Ron, however, had remained completely silent. Harry's eyes sought the latter's. His stomach dropped.

Ron looked simply sick. His freckled face was tinged with green; he was holding onto the posts so tightly, his knuckles were white. He was staring at Harry was such fear and intensity that Harry almost recoiled, but instead, stared back, practically willing him to calm down.

"Thank you, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly. Harry's eyes flickered to him. "As I've said, you have shown extraordinary bravery, tonight. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. What you need now is a Sleeping Potion and some peace...Sirius, would you like to stay with him?"

Harry looked at Sirius, who nodded. Madam Pomfrey turned around at once and headed for her office. To retrieve the Sleeping Potion, Harry supposed.

"Good. I must be off," Dumbledore said, standing swiftly. "I have Minerva and Severus in my office, awaiting a few orders. There is a matter of who put your name into the Goblet of Fire that must be taken care of."

"But - you know who did it, sir?" Harry asked.

"I believe I have a shrewd idea," Dumbledore responded, nodding, his eyes alight and blazing. "I am about have Professor Snape fetch some of his strongest Veritaserum for Alastor Moody."

"Moody?" Harry asked, alarmed, as everyone around him gasped, including Madam Pomfrey, who had returned with a bottle and a goblet. "Wait - sir, what exactly is Veritaserum?"

"A Truth Potion, Harry. Very powerful. I would like you to get some rest now. I will tell you everything in the morning."

Harry nodded as Madam Pomfrey tipped some purple potion into the goblet and handed it to him. His mind should have been reeling, but he really didn't feel up to it much just then. Rest sounded far too wonderful...He drank a few mouthfuls of the potion and felt himself becoming drowsy at once. Everything around him became hazy; the lamps around the hospital wing seemed to be winking at him in a friendly way; his body felt as though it were sinking deeper into the feather mattress. Before he could drink any more potion, before he could even say another word, his exhaustion had carried him off to sleep.

::::::

Harry awoke, so warm, so very sleepy, that he didn't open his eyes, wanting to drop back off again. He had a feeling he hadn't been asleep for very long...Then he heard whispering around him.

"They'll wake him if they don't shut up!"

"What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?"

Harry opened his eyes blearily. Someone had removed his glasses. He could just make out the blurry outlines of Bill, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley, standing around his bed. They all seemed to be looking in the direction of the corridor beyond. That's when Harry heard the hurried footsteps and voices. Angry voices - one of them sounded like Professor McGonagall in fact, and was the other one - Fudge? But he was simply too tired to care. His head swimming lazily, he closed his eyes once more and dropped right back off to dreamless sleep.

He awoke again an indeterminate amount of time later. It can't have been too long, for it was still fairly dark; he had no clue as to why Madam Pomfrey's potion wasn't working as it was supposed to do - he'd never had a trouble before. Unless he cast aside the bottle of Skele-gro he'd taken for bone regrowth, but at least it had done the job. Blinking up at the dark blurry ceiling, Harry yawned, taking slight notice of the fact that the screen around his bed had been pulled.

"Harry?" someone whispered.

Turning his head to his left, Harry squinted. It was flat out impossible to tell whose outline it was sitting in the chair next to his bed through the screen and bad eye sight.

"Mum, I think he's awake."

The figure was still whispering, but Harry knew who it was now. Slowly, he sat up and reached for the small bedside table, feeling around its surface for his glasses. As he did so, his hand nudged up against some sort of weighty sack; he didn't give it much thought. He found his glasses and slipped them on, relieved as the room came into focus. Sweeping the screen back with one hand, he saw Ron sitting to his left, Sirius (a dog once more) curled up next to his chair, apparently sleeping, Mrs. Weasley starting toward him, and Hermione over by a far window, gazing sleepily out of it.

"Where's Bill?" Harry asked, noticing after everyone else was incredibly accounted for that the man was missing.

"Oh - Dumbledore sent him off to inform Arthur of what's - what's happened," Mrs. Weasley told him, coming to a stop in front of him, a kind expression on her face. "Harry, dear, try and go back to sleep. Do you need more of your Potion? Where is it - ?" She was scanning the bedside table, but the bottle and goblet were no longer there. Harry supposed he had drunk it all. He shook his head.

"I'm not tired," he half-lied. "Who else came in while I was asleep? I thought I heard - "

"No one, dear," Mrs. Weasley said soothingly, attempting to push him back into his pillows. "Just go to sleep now..."

"But - " Harry allowed himself to lie back. "I heard voices before. It sounded like Fudge and McGonagall - they sounded angry - "

"He doesn't sound all that exhausted, Mum, just tell him what happened," Ron interjected, leaning forward with his chin in his hand. Mrs. Weasley looked back at Harry, seemingly debating with herself.

"Alright," she sighed after a moment, "but you must go straight to sleep when I've finished, yes? Good boy. Well...it seems that you have never met the real Alastor Moody after all. He was an imposter who was planted here this year to make certain that...you came into harm. He put your name in the Goblet of Fire and helped you along without your knowing - he - He personally blasted obstacles out of your way in the maze tonight so that you would reach the cup first and be sent to Y-You-Know-Who...Dumbledore found all this out a few hours ago, he told Minerva McGonagall to stand watch over him. But Cornelius Fudge came in and - and - " Mrs. Weasley faltered, her eyes horror-filled. "Well, he brought in a Dementor with him and it - it - "

Harry insides froze. The Dementor must have administered its fatal Kiss...it was said to be absolutely terrible to behold. He nodded, swallowing, to show that he understood.

Mrs. Weasley nodded as well, looking slightly relieved. "Minerva was _furious_."

"I've never seen her look like that," Ron put in, shuddering. "She came bursting in here with Fudge and Snape, shouting and red-faced - and then Dumbledore came wondering what all the fuss was about. He and Fudge had a row, mate - the thing is that, now the imposter can't tell his story to proove that You-Know-Who really is...back. And Fudge refuses to believe it - "

"What?" Harry asked angrily. "I _saw_ him, I fought him - "

"We know, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley as the black dog beside Ron raised his head. "He won't listen to reason."

"Maybe if I talk to him - " Harry actually made to get out of bed, but Mrs. Weasley pushed him back.

"It won't do any good, dear." She looked anxiously at Ron. So did Harry. Ron's ears turned red.

"Well...you see, Fudge believes all the rubbish that Skeeter woman comes out with. He - he thinks you're quite deranged."

Harry sat there, shocked. "But - but what about Dumbledore? Doesn't he believe Dumbledore?"

Ron shook his head. Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. _Fudge_? The little portly man who had once let him off the hook for blowing up his aunt was refusing, point-blank, to accept that he was telling the truth about someone as crucial as this? He actually thought that Harry was _mad_?

"He reckons Dumbledore's got a bit old. So, anyway, they rowed and then Fudge dropped your winnings off before storming out - " Harry glanced at the weighty sack on his bedside table." - Dumbledore made Sirius transform in front of Snape and McGonagall, so they know about him now as well. Snape and Sirius didn't seem to like each other much, though - I think they went to school together." Sirius chose that moment to growl menacingly, deep in his throat. "Then Dumbledore sent Snape off to do something, and Bill to tell Dad, and McGonagall to get Hagrid and Madam Maxime into his office. And that - that was it really."

"But - " Harry was overwhelmed. He couldn't seem to find words to express what he was feeling, what he wanted to ask or say. So he simply asked the first thing to come to his mind. "Where's the real Moody? Is he alright?"

"They found him in the bottom of the imposter's trunk. You know the one?" Ron asked. "It's been in his office all year. He's fine. He's over there, actually - "

Harry turned to look where Ron was pointing and saw a dark mass occupying one of the beds opposite them. "But - what are we going to do if Fudge doesn't come to his senses? He's going to be telling everyone we're lying, isn't he? No one is going to know - we've got to prepare, haven't we?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded sadly. "Fudge's reaction complicates matters. We'll simply have to do the best we can, dear." Harry felt the feathered mattress dip as she had a seat next to him. He looked over at Sirius, who was staring up at him with big puppy dog eyes. "What you need is a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while...think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!"

"I don't want that gold," Harry said in an expressionless voice. "You can have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn't've won it. It should've been Cedric's.

The thing he had been fighting on and off since he had emerged from the maze was now threatening to overcome him. He could feel a burning, pricking feeling in the inner corners of his eyes. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling again.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry," Mrs. Weasley whispered.

"I told him to take the cup with me," Harry said.

Now the burning was in his throat too. He sort of wished Ron would look away; he'd cried too much in front of him to be entirely comfortable.

Mrs. Weasley sniffed, bent down, and put her arms around him. He had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as though by a mother. The full weight of everything he had seen that night seemed to fall in upon him as Mrs. Weasley held him to her. His mother's face, his father's voice, the sight of Cedric, dead on the ground all started spinning in his head until he could hardly bear it, until he was screwing up his face against the howl of misery fighting to get out of him.

Simultaneously, there was a loud scraping and slamming noise. Mrs. Weasley and Harry broke apart. Ron had scooted his chair closer to the bed to be closer to Harry, and Hermione was still standing by the window. She was holding something tight in her hand.

"Sorry," they both whispered.

Mrs. Weasley wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and stood. "I'm going to see Poppy about getting you some more Potion, alright?"

He nodded blankly and turned his head toward Ron once she had left. He felt the mattress dip again as Sirius jumped up onto the foot of the bed. Harry watched as he curled up next to his feet, his body warm and comforting. He nudged Harry's toes through the sheets with his snout, drawing a small chuckle from him. He turned back to Ron, who gripped his hand gently.

"I'm not too great with words, Harry..." he said, bending close to him.

"You're brilliant," Harry whispered back, returning the pressure on his hand. "You all didn't have to stay here with me...you should have gone on to bed as well."

"Don't be thick." Ron's voice was so choked with emotion that Harry, who had managed to get a grip on his tears, had to fight the burning sensation once more.

"Ron, listen - "

Mrs. Weasley reemerged from Madam Pomfrey's office with more Sleep Potion and a goblet. She set them both on the bedside table, quietly.

"When you're ready, Harry," she told him. Then she turned and spotted Sirius on his bed. She pursed her lips, but refrained from saying anything. Harry thought perhaps she was concerned about fleas or something of that nature. "I'm going to go home to Arthur. _Do_ get some rest, dear, and I'll see you a few weeks time no doubt."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said with fierce sincerity. She nodded at him and ran a hand through his hair once before going over to smother Ron. With one last warm goodbye to Hermione, she swept from the room. Harry suspected she was still a bit nervous around Sirius - after all, until a few hours ago, she'd thought him a convicted murderer.

Hermione came toward them, still clutching something tight in her hand. "Harry?" she asked quietly. "D'you mind if I leave too? I'm really glad you're okay - I'm just so - so t-tired - " she said around a huge yawn. "And there's something I need to do before I turn in."

"Sure," Harry told her. "What have you got to do?"

"Oh - just - well, I'll explain later," she said, and he and Ron exchanged exasperated looks. "I promise! Goodnight." And she followed Mrs. Weasley out the door.

Ron turned back to him. "Don't you hate it when she does that?"

Harry smiled a little. There was something wonderful about the familiarity of the whole thing...Ron gripped his hand again, leaning very close to him. "Want your potion?" he asked, raising Harry's hand to his lips and speaking against it. Harry concentrated on the feeling of Ron's lips on his skin - he hadn't felt it in weeks and weeks. He shook his head.

"In a moment."

Ron softly kissed his knuckes, pressing them to his face. Harry's stomach swooped. He kissed them once more before lowering their hands to the mattress.

Quietly, discreetly, Sirius began crawling toward them on his belly. Harry started when he felt the bed move, having nearly forgotten that his godfather was there. The black dog reached them, stopping with his paws out in front of him as if he were begging. Harry and Ron stared at him, wondering what he wanted. Sirius broke Harry's gaze by lowering his head and nudging gently at their conjoined hands. He gave a low rumbling growl. Did he want them to part? Somehow, Harry didn't think so - he was being far to gentle about it. He gripped Ron's hand tightly, and knew that he was right in doing so when Sirius licked Ron's thumb. Incredibly, Harry found himself beaming. Sirius saw this and bounded forward to lick his face.

"Hey, hey - get off - !"

Ron was laughing softly, and Sirius turned to him instead, barking at a similar volume. He wagged his tail, clearly hoping that Ron would pet him. Ron did so with enthusiasm, scratching behind his ears for good measure. When he was finished, Sirius flopped down right beside Harry, snuggling into him with his warm head resting on his middle.

"So you're quite happy about it, then?" Harry teased. Sirius wagged his tail once. Harry scratched him behind the ears as Ron had done, feeling suddenly sleepy.

He swallowed his potion in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous. Heavy, irresistable waves of dreamless sleep broke over him; he pressed deeply into his pillows and thought no more.

::::::

Harry had trouble remembering much of the next few days. There was a horrible meeting with Cedric's parents the day following Voldemort's return, during which Mr. Diggory was sobbing the whole time and Mrs. Diggory's grief seemed to be beyond years. He'd tried to give them his Triwizard winnings, but they'd refused to accept it, saying that it was rightfully his.

According to Ron and Hermione, that morning, Dumbledore had given a speech requesting that everyone leave Harry alone, meaning there were to be no questions about what went on in the maze. Harry was rather grateful, though his classmates now skirted him in the corridors, avoiding his gaze, whispering and pointing. He supposed they thought him quite as mad as Fudge. He liked it best when he was with Ron and Hermione, talking about nothing, or just sitting in silence while they played a game of chess. The three of them had seemed to reach an understanding that didn't need to be put into words.

As they now had no Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, they had those lessons free. They used one on a Thursday afternoon to go down and visit Hagrid. He was overjoyed to see them. He welcomed them in, offering some of his horrible rock cakes and a cup of tea, which they politely accepted. Harry was very glad they had gone down to see him; Hagrid had always been able to cheer him up a bit, or at least put a smile on his face for the time being.

The end-of-year feast was excellent as usual. But the Hall, instead of being decorated with the colors of the winner of the House Cup, was draped with black hangings as a mark of respect to Cedric. Harry's throat tightened when he saw them, and wasn't helped along when Dumbledore stood to give a stirring speech in his honor. Harry happened to glance over at the Ravenclaw table and caught, with a pang, a glimpse of Cho Chang crying silently.

Then, finally, they were on the train home. Harry, Ron, and Hermione found their usual compartment and took their seats, with similiar feelings of relief. Almost as soon as Hermione had closed the door behind them, Harry found himself slumping, leaning on Ron, his head falling onto his shoulder. Hermione tiptoed to her seat with a small smile as though afraid she would disturb him. Pigwideon was hooting in his cage, covered by Ron's dress robes, Hedwig was already fast asleep with her head under her wing, and Crookshanks lay curled up like some furry, ginger cushion.

"D'you think I could come stay with you again this summer?" Harry asked hopefully.

"If you didn't, I reckon Ginny and me would drive each other bonkers," Ron said. "Mum's already asked Dumbledore if you could to come to us straightaway, but he says he'd like you to stay with the Dursleys. At least at first. Shut _up_, Pig."

Harry's heart sank. "Why?"

"I dunno, but I suppose we've got to trust him, haven't we?"

Harry sighed. Hermione leaned forward and patted his knee, her expression sympathetic. She then sat back and reached into her bag. Harry watched warily as she pulled out a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. Hermione noticed this and rushed to say, "Oh, don't worry. There's nothing in there. You can check if you like. Just a small piece the day after you won the Tournament - "

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Are you ever going to tell us what you found out about - ?" Ron started to ask.

"Yes," said Hermione at once. "Erm - actually, it was you who gave me the idea, Harry."

"Me?" he asked incredulously. "What'd I say?"

"_Bugging_," said Hermione happily.

"But you said they didn't work - "

"No, not _electronic_ bugs," she said. "No, you see...Rita Skeeter" - Hermione's voice trembling with quiet triumph - "is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn - " She pulled a small sealed glass jar out of her bag. " - into a beetle."

"You're kidding," said Ron. "You haven't - she's not - "

"Oh, yes, she is," said Hermione, brandishing the jar at them. Inside the jar were a few leaves and twigs, and one large, fat beetle.

"That's never - you're kidding - " Ron whispered, lifting the jar to his eyes.

"No, I'm not." Hermione was beaming. "If you look closely, you'll notice that the marking around its eyes are exactly like those foul glasses she wears. I caught her on the windowsill of the hospital wing."

Harry looked and saw that she was right. He also remembered something.

"There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!"

"Exactly," said Hermione. "And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. And unless I'm very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day your scar hurt. She's been buzzing around for stories all year."

"And I'll bet - " Harry said to Ron, whose eyes were very wide, " - she was somewhere around the night after the Second Task. Probably on the windowsill in our dormitory, watching us. _That's_ how she knew so soon - "

"Blimey," said Ron weakly, flushing. "You don't reckon she went into that room with us, do you? The day we cut Snape's class?"

Both Harry and Hermione flushed at that. "I - I don't think so. Very few people know about that room..."

Ron's face relaxed. "Good."

Hermione took the jar back from him; Rita buzzed angrily against the glass. "I've told her I'll let her out when we get to London. I've also put an Unbreakable Charm on the glass so she can't transform. She's not allowed to use her quill for an entire year unless she wants me to spill the beans on _her_."

The door to the compartment opened.

"Very clever, Granger," said Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were standing just behind him. They looked more pleased, more proud and arrogant than Harry had ever seen them. "You've caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favorite boy again. Big deal." His smirk was pronounced. "Trying not to think about it, are we? Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"

"Get out," said Harry.

"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!" He jerked his head at Ron, then Hermione. "Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Especially when they figure out what you've got going with _this_ Muggle-lover," he spat, pointing at Ron. "It's Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well - second - Diggory was the f - "

It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. A blaze of spells blasted in every direction, a series of bangs sounded and Harry blinked and looked down at the floor. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all lying unconcious in the doorway. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all on their feet, all three of them having used a different hex at the same time. Nor were they the only ones to have done so.

"Thought we'd come and see what those three were up to," said George, stepping into the compartment, Fred just behind him. The latter made sure to tread carefully upon Malfoy's fingers. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me," said Harry.

"Odd," said George lightly. "I used Jelly-Legs. Looks like the two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor."

Ron, Harry, and George kicked, rolled, and pushed the unconcious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle out into the corridor, then came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut.

"Exploding Snap, anyone?" said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards.

The rest of the journey passed pleasantly enough; Harry wished it could have gone on all summer, in fact, and that he would never arrive at King's Cross...but as he had learned the hard way that year, time will not slow down when something unpleasant lies ahead, and all too soon, the Hogwarts Express was pulling in at platform nine and three-quarters. The usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as the students began to disembark. Ron and Hermione struggled out past Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, carrying their trunks. Harry, however, stayed put.

"Fred - George - wait a moment."

The twins turned. Harry pulled open his trunk and drew out his Triwizard winnings.

"Take it," he said, and he thrust the sack into George's hands.

"What?" said Fred, looking flabbergasted.

"Take it," Harry repeated firmly. "I don't want it."

"You're mental," said George, trying to push it back at Harry.

"No, I'm not," said Harry. "You take it, and get inventing. It's for the joke shop."

"He _is_ mental," Fred said in an almost awed voice.

"Listen," said Harry firmly. "If you don't take it, I'm tossing it down the drain. I don't want it and I don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long."

The twins stared at him.

"Just don't tell your mum where you got it...although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it..."

"Harry," Fred began, but Harry pulled out his wand.

"Look," he said flatly, "take it or I'll hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me one favor, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they're from you." He left the compartment before they could say another word, stepping over Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were still lying on the floor, covered in hex marks.

Uncle Vernon was waiting beyond the barrier. Mrs. Weasley was close by him. She hugged Harry very tightly when she saw him and whispered in his ear, "I think Dumbledore will let you come to us later in the summer. Keep in touch, Harry."

"Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek.

"See you, Harry," Ron murmured, before pulling him into a fierce hug. Harry hugged him back, wishing dearly that he didn't have to let go. But let go he did.

"Harry - thanks," George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side. Harry winked at them, turned to Uncle Vernon, who was eyeing Ron suspiciously, and followed him silently from the station. There was no point worrying yet, he told himself, as he got into the back of the Dursleys' car.

As Hagrid had said during their visit, what would come would come...and he would have to meet it when it did.


End file.
